By  Angelo  Patri 


A  Schoolmaster 

of  the 

Great  City 


THIS  is  the  story  of  a  teacher  with  a  vision 
—of  a  teacher  who  set  out  to  humanize 
the  schoolroom,  of  the  obstacles  whiSh 
he  encountered  from  both  parents  ai 
school  authorities,  of  his  failures,  of  his 
successes  and  of  his  rewards.  This  teacher 
sees  the  public  school  not  as  a  perfectly 
adjusted  machine  for  the  turning  out  of  a 
uniform  product,  but  as  a  great  institution 
where  a  thousand  and  one  diverse  natures 
may  be  so  trained  that  each  will  reach  its 
fullest  development.  The  narrative,  en- 
riched with  a  wealth  of  anecdote  and 
reminiscence,  is  both  fascinating  as  a 
record  of  actual  experiment  and  signifi- 
cant as  indicating  a  forward  step  in  the 
progress  of  educational  methods  in  this 
country. 


A  SCHOOLMASTER  OF 
THE  GREAT  CITY 


THK  MACMILLAN  COMPAKT 

•SW  TOBK  •    BOSTON  •   CHICAGO  •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •  1AM  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  ft  CO.,  Lutmo 

LONDON  •   BOMBAY  •  CALCUTTA 
MELBOVItNB 

TEX  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA.  Lm 


A 

SCHOOLMASTER  OF 
THE  GREAT  CITY 


BY 

ANGELO  PATRI 


Sfrm  fork 
THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1920 

A.II  right*  reiervtd 


OomuoHT.  1917. 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Set  up  and  «lectrotyp«d.      PublUhtd,    M.y,     1917. 


L& 


SCHOOL 
ARTS  A*0  HQ*E 

BAK3AR*,  «LIFOW»lA 


> 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I    THE  BACKGROUND 


PAGE 

i 


II  IN  THE  SCHOOL 24 

III  OUTSIDE  THE  SCHOOL 58 

IV  THE  PARENTS  AT  WORK 85 

V  THE  NEIGHBOURHOOD  IDEA  KEEPS  ON  GROW- 
ING    122 

VI  OUR  SCHOOL 154 

VII  THE  DIRECTION  OF  THE  NEW  START     .     .     .   197 

VIII  THE  CHILDREN  .  220 


A 

SCHOOLMASTER  OF  THE 
GREAT  CITY 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   BACKGROUND 

I 

I  REMEMBER  sitting  with  the  family  and  the  neigh- 
bours' families  about  the  fireplace,  while  father,  night 
after  night,  told  us  stories  of  the  Knights  of  the 
Crusades  or  recounted  the  glories  of  the  heroes  of 
proud  Italy. 

How  he  could  tell  a  story !  His  voice  was  strong, 
and  soft,  and  soothing,  and  he  had  just  sufficient 
power  of  exaggeration  to  increase  the  attractiveness 
of  the  tale.  We  could  see  the  soldiers  he  told  us 
about  pass  before  us  in  all  their  struggles  and  sor- 
rows and  triumphs.  Back  and  forth  he  marched 
them  into  Asia  Minor,  across  Sicily,  and  into  the 
castles  of  France,  Germany  and  England.  We  lis- 
tened eagerly  and  came  back  each  night  ready  to  be 
thrilled  and  inspired  again  by  the  spirit  of  the  good 
and  the  great. 

Then  came  the  journey  over  the  sea,  and  the  family 


2         A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

with  the  neighbours'  families  were  part  of  the  life  of 
New  York.  We  were  Little  Italy. 

I  was  eleven  before  I  went  to  a  city  school.  All 
the  English  I  knew  had  been  learned  in  the  street. 
I  knew  Italian.  From  the  time  I  was  seven  I  had 
written  letters  for  the  neighbours.  Especially  the 
women  folk  took  me  off  to  a  corner  and  asked  me  to 
write  letters  to  their  friends  in  Italy.  As  they  told 
me  the  story  I  wrote  it  down.  I  thus  learned  the 
beat  of  plain  folks*  hearts. 

My  uncle  from  whom  I  had  learned  Italian  went 
back  to  Italy  and  I  was  left  without  a  teacher,  so  one 
day  I  attached  myself  to  a  playmate  and  went  to 
school;  an  "American"  school.  I  gave  my  name 
and  my  age  and  was  told  to  sit  in  a  long  row  of 
benches  with  some  sixty  other  children.  The  teacher 
stood  at  the  blackboard  and  wrote  "  March  5,  1887." 
We  all  read  it  after  her;  chanting  the  sing  song  with 
the  teacher.  Each  morning  we  did  the  same  thing, 
that  is,  repeated  lessons  after  the  teacher.  That 
first  day  and  the  second  day  were  alike,  and  so  were 
the  years  that  followed.  "  If  one  yard  of  goods 
cost  three  cents  how  much  will  twenty-five  yards 
cost?"  If  one  yard  costs  three  cents  then  twenty- 
five  yards  will  cost  twenty-five  times  three  cents  or 
seventy-five  cents.  The  explanation  could  not  vary 
or  it  might  not  be  true  or  logical. 

But  there  was  one  thing  that  was  impressed  more 


The  Background  3 

strongly  than  this  routine.  I  had  always  been  a 
sickly,  thin,  pale-faced  child.  I  did  not  like  to  sit 
still.  I  wanted  to  play,  to  talk,  to  move  about.  But 
if  I  did  any  of  these  things,  I  was  kept  after  school 
as  a  punishment.  This  would  not  do.  I  had  to  get 
out  of  the  room  and  frequently  I  endured  agonies 
because  the  teacher  would  not  permit  me  to  leave  the 
room  whenever  I  wanted  to.  Many  times  I  went 
home  sick  and  lay  abed. 

Soon  I  discovered  that  the  boys  who  sat  quietly, 
looked  straight  ahead  and  folded  their  arms  behind 
their  backs,  and  even  refused  to  talk  to  their  neigh- 
bours, were  allowed  the  special  privilege  of  leaving 
the  room  for  one  minute,  not  longer.  So  I  sat  still, 
very  still,  for  hours  and  hours  so  that  I  might  have 
the  one  minute.  Throughout  my  whole  school  life 
this  picture  remains  uppermost.  I  sat  still,  repeated 
words,  and  then  obtained  my  minute  allowance. 

For  ten  years  I  did  this,  and  because  I  learned 
words  I  was  able  to  go  from  the  first  year  of  school 
through  the  last  year  of  college.  My  illness  and  the 
school  discipline  had  helped  after  all.  They  had 
made  my  school  life  shorter  by  several  years  than  it 
otherwise  might  have  been. 

The  colony  life  of  the  city's  immigrants  is  an  at- 
tempt to  continue  the  village  traditions  of  the  mother 
country.  In  our  neighbourhood  there  were  hun- 
dreds of  families  that  had  come  from  the  same  part 


2         A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

with  the  neighbours'  families  were  part  of  the  life  of 
New  York.  We  were  Little  Italy. 

I  was  eleven  before  I  went  to  a  city  school.  All 
the  English  I  knew  had  been  learned  in  the  street. 
I  knew  Italian.  From  the  time  I  was  seven  I  had 
written  letters  for  the  neighbours.  Especially  the 
women  folk  took  me  off  to  a  corner  and  asked  me  to 
write  letters  to  their  friends  in  Italy.  As  they  told 
me  the  story  I  wrote  it  down.  I  thus  learned  the 
beat  of  plain  folks'  hearts. 

My  uncle  from  whom  I  had  learned  Italian  went 
back  to  Italy  and  I  was  left  without  a  teacher,  so  one 
day  I  attached  myself  to  a  playmate  and  went  to 
school;  an  "American"  school.  I  gave  my  name 
and  my  age  and  was  told  to  sit  in  a  long  row  of 
benches  with  some  sixty  other  children.  The  teacher 
stood  at  the  blackboard  and  wrote  "  March  5,  1887." 
We  all  read  it  after  her;  chanting  the  sing  song  with 
the  teacher.  Each  morning  we  did  the  same  thing, 
that  is,  repeated  lessons  after  the  teacher.  That 
first  day  and  the  second  day  were  alike,  and  so  were 
the  years  that  followed.  "  If  one  yard  of  goods 
cost  three  cents  how  much  will  twenty-five  yards 
cost?"  If  one  yard  costs  three  cents  then  twenty- 
five  yards  will  cost  twenty-five  times  three  cents  or 
seventy-five  cents.  The  explanation  could  not  vary 
or  it  might  not  be  true  or  logical. 

But  there  was  one  thing  that  was  impressed  more 


The  Background  3 

strongly  than  this  routine.  I  had  always  been  a 
sickly,  thin,  pale-faced  child.  I  did  not  like  to  sit 
still.  I  wanted  to  play,  to  talk,  to  move  about.  But 
if  I  did  any  of  these  things,  I  was  kept  after  school 
as  a  punishment.  This  would  not  do.  I  had  to  get 
out  of  the  room  and  frequently  I  endured  agonies 
because  the  teacher  would  not  permit  me  to  leave  the 
room  whenever  I  wanted  to.  Many  times  I  went 
home  sick  and  lay  abed. 

Soon  I  discovered  that  the  boys  who  sat  quietly, 
looked  straight  ahead  and  folded  their  arms  behind 
their  backs,  and  even  refused  to  talk  to  their  neigh- 
bours, were  allowed  the  special  privilege  of  leaving 
the  room  for  one  minute,  not  longer.  So  I  sat  still, 
very  still,  for  hours  and  hours  so  that  I  might  have 
the  one  minute.  Throughout  my  whole  school  life 
this  picture  remains  uppermost.  I  sat  still,  repeated 
words,  and  then  obtained  my  minute  allowance. 

For  ten  years  I  did  this,  and  because  I  learned 
words  I  was  able  to  go  from  the  first  year  of  school 
through  the  last  year  of  college.  My  illness  and  the 
school  discipline  had  helped  after  all.  They  had 
made  my  school  life  shorter  by  several  years  than  it 
otherwise  might  have  been. 

The  colony  life  of  the  city's  immigrants  is  an  at- 
tempt to  continue  the  village  traditions  of  the  mother 
country.  In  our  neighbourhood  there  were  hun- 
dreds of  families  that  had  come  from  the  same  part 


4         A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

of  Italy.  On  summer  nights  they  gathered  in  groups 
on  the  sidewalks,  the  stoops,  the  court-yards,  and 
talked  and  sang  and  dreamed.  In  winter  the  men 
and  boys  built  Roman  arches  out  of  the  snow. 

But  gradually  the  families  grew  in  size.  The 
neighbourhood  became  congested.  A  few  families 
moved  away.  Ours  was  one  of  them.  We  began 
to  be  a  part  of  the  new  mass  instead  of  the  old. 
The  city  with  its  tremendous  machinery,  its  many 
demands,  its  constant  calling,  calling,  began  to  take 
hold.  What  had  been  intimate,  quaint,  beautiful, 
ceased  to  appeal. 

I  went  to  school,  father  went  to  work,  mother 
looked  after  the  house.  When  evening  came,  in- 
stead of  sitting  about  the  fire,  talking  and  reliving 
the  day,  we  sat,  each  in  his  own  corner.  One  nursed 
his  tired  bones,  another  prepared  his  lessons  for 
the  morrow.  The  demands  of  the  school  devoured 
me;  the  work  world  exhausted  my  father.  The 
long  evenings  of  close  contact  with  my  home  peo- 
ple were  becoming  rare.  I  was  slipping  away  from 
my  home;  home  was  slipping  away  from  me. 

Yet  my  father  knew  what  he  was  about.  While 
the  fathers  of  most  of  the  boys  about  me  were  put- 
ting their  money  into  business  or  into  their  houses, 
mine  put  his  strength,  his  love,  his  money,  his  com- 
forts into  making  me  better  than  himself.  The 
spirit  of  the  crusaders  should  live  again  in  his  son. 


The  Background  5 

He  wanted  me  to  become  a  priest:  I  wanted  to  be- 
come a  doctor. 

During  all  the  years  that  he  worked  for  me,  I 
worked  for  myself.  While  his  hopes  were  centred 
in  the  family,  mine  were  extending  beyond  it.  I 
worked  late  into  the  nights,  living  a  life  of  which  my 
father  was  not  a  part.  This  living  by  myself  tended 
to  make  me  forget,  indeed  to  undervalue,  the  worth 
of  my  people.  I  was  ashamed  sometimes  because 
my  folk  did  not  look  or  talk  like  Americans. 

When  most  depressed  by  the  feeling  of  living 
crudely  and  poorly,  I  would  go  out  to  see  my  father 
at  work.  I  would  see  him  high  up  on  a  scaffold  a 
hundred  feet  in  the  air  and  my  head  would  get  dizzy 
and  my  heart  would  rise  to  my  throat.  Then  I 
would  think  of  him  once  more  as  the  poet  story 
teller  with  the  strong,  soothing  voice  and  the  far 
off  visioned  eye,  and  the  poet  in  his  soul  would  link 
itself  to  mine,  and  would  see  why  on  two-dollar-a- 
day  wages  he  sent  me  to  college. 

Proud  of  his  strength  I  would  strengthen  my 
moral  fibre  and  respond  to  his  dream.  Yet  not  as 
he  dreamed,  for  when  he  fell  fifty  feet  down  a  ladder 
and  was  ill  for  a  whole  year  I  went  to  work  at  teach- 
ing. 


tf         A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

II 

The  principal  under  whom  I  did  my  first  teach- 
ing was  one  with  whom  I  had  studied  as  a  pupil  in 
the  grades.  He  was  opening  a  new  school  and 
welcomed  me  cordially.  Leading  me  to  a  class- 
room he  opened  the  door  and  pushed  me  in,  saying, 
"  This  is  your  class."  Then  he  vanished. 

There  were  sixty-six  children  in  that  room.  Their 
ages  ran  from  eight  to  fifteen.  They  had  been  sit- 
ting there  daily  annoying  the  substitutes  who  were 
sent  to  the  room  and  driving  them  out  of  school. 
The  cordial  reception  I  had  been  given  by  the  prin- 
cipal held  more  of  relief  for  himself  than  of  kind- 
ness for  me. 

That  first  day  passed.  The  last  few  straggling 
boys  filed  out  an  hour  or  so  after  school  hours.  One 
of  the  biggest  boys  whom  I  had  detained  for  disorder 
stopped  long  enough  on  his  way  out  to  ask,  "  Coming 
back  to-morrow?" 

"  Yes,  of  course  I  am  coming  back.  Why  do 
you  ask?  " 

"  Well,  some  of  them  come  one  day  and  some 
come  two  days.  To-morrow  will  be  two  days." 

This  boy  did  not  know  me.  My  one  strong  point 
was  discipline.  I  knew  little  of  subject  matter,  peda- 
gogy or  psychology,  except  a  number  of  words  that 
had  never  become  a  part  of  me.  I  had  one  notion 


The  Background  7 

that  was  strong  —  discipline.  That  was  the  idea. 
Had  I  not  been  kept  after  hours  to  study  my  lessons, 
slapped  for  asking  my  neighbour  for  a  pencil,  made 
to  kneel  for  hours  for  absenting  myself  from  school, 
for  defending  my  rights  to  the  teacher?  Had  I  not 
been  marked,  rated,  percented  all  the  ten  years  of  my 
life  in  school  ? 

Discipline  then  was  the  basic  idea  in  teaching. 
You  made  pupils  do  what  you  wanted;  you  must  be 
the  master.  Memory,  and  those  who  ought  to  have 
known,  preached  discipline.  It  was  the  standard 
for  judging  my  work  as  a  teacher.  My  continuance 
in  the  profession  depended  upon  discipline. 

At  least  there  was  no  conflict  of  aim.  Since  disci- 
pline was  the  thing,  I  would  discipline,  and  I  did.  I 
oppressed;  I  went  to  the  homes;  I  sent  registered 
letters.  I  followed  up  each  infraction  of  rules  re- 
lentlessly. There  was  no  getting  away  from  me.  I 
was  making  sure  that  the  children  were  punished  for 
their  misdeeds. 

I  followed  the  truants  into  their  homes  because  I 
wanted  relief  from  a  principal  who  sent  me  a  note 
every  time  my  attendance  fell  below  a  certain  per 
cent.  I  visited  the  parents  to  complain  of  the  work 
the  children  were  doing,  because  the  principal  said  I 
must  hold  their  noses  to  the  grindstone. 

I  seemed  to  say  to  the  children,  in  the  words  of 
Edmond  Holmes,  "  You  are  to  model  yourself,  or 


io       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

night  until  my  father  seized  and  killed  it  bare- 
handed. 

When  I  related  these  stories  they  listened.  They 
hardly  breathed.  Each  day  I  would  end  so  that 
more  could  be  expected.  Then  I  began  to  bargain 
with  them,  trading  what  they  liked  for  what  the 
schools  said  they  should  have.  I  bribed  them  with 
promises  of  more  stories  to  come  if  they  would  be 
"  good  "  and  do  the  work  assigned. 

The  struggle  was  between  the  child  and  the 
teacher,  and  the  struggle  was  over  the  facts  of  the 
curriculum  —  the  children  refusing  to  learn  and  the 
teacher  insisting  that  they  must.  But  discipline  was 
restored,  and  victory  won,  by  bargaining. 

Woe  to  the  boy  or  girl  who  transgressed  and  thus 
prevented  the  telling  of  the  story.  No  arithmetic, 
no  story !  No  silence,  no  story !  The  children  from 
other  classes  asked  to  be  changed.  They  too  wanted 
stories.  I  had  them  by  the  hundreds,  for  as  soon  as 
I  had  caught  the  interest  of  the  children  the  stories 
of  adventure  gave  place  to  the  old  hero  tales. 

Discipline  once  more  was  my  watchword. 

Then  a  new  trouble  arose.  I  had  been  teaching  a 
year  when  "  Methods  "  became  the  school  watch- 
word, and  everybody  set  about  learning  how  to  teach 
arithmetic,  spelling,  history  and  geography.  Each 
teacher  had  his  own  methods  and  supervisors  going 


The  Background  n 

from  one  room  to  another  were  puzzled  by  the  va- 
riety. 

The  principal  restored  order  out  of  chaos.  A 
method  book  was  written.  Every  subject  was 
treated  and  the  steps  of  procedure  in  each  were  care- 
fully marked  out.  A  programme  of  the  day's  work 
was  prescribed  and  we  were  expected  to  follow  the 
stated  order.  Inspection  by  the  principal  and  other 
supervisors  was  based  on  these. 

I  heard  the  teachers  talk  of  these  things  as  imposi- 
tions. When  I  failed  to  follow  directions  I  was 
severely  criticised.  I  began  asking  the  reason  for  it 
all. 

Why  should  I  teach  history  in  the  prescribed  way? 

"  Class,  open  books  to  page  37.  Study  the  first 
paragraph." 

Two  minutes  later. 

"  Close  books.     Tell  me  what  you  learned." 

In  such  instruction  there  was  no  stopping,  no  ques- 
tioning, no  valuation:  nothing  but  deadly,  mechanical 
grind.  Every  teacher  and  every  class  had  to  do 
these  things  in  just  this  way. 

The  spelling  routine  was  worst.  Twenty  new 
words  were  to  be  assigned  each  day  for  study.  The 
words  had  to  be  difficult,  too,  for  through  them  the 
children  were  to  train  their  memories  —  their  minds, 
as  the  principal  put  it.  The  next  day  at  a  signal  the 
children  wrote  the  twenty  words  in  the  order  in 


12       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

which  they  had  been  assigned,  from  memory,  if  they 
could.  Papers  were  exchanged  and  the  children 
were  asked  to  correct  them.  If  a  child  failed  to  dis- 
cover an  error  it  was  a  point  against  him.  The 
names  of  those  who  "  missed  "  were  written  on  the 
board  with  a  check  for  each  mistake.  The  pupils 
who  failed  had  to  remain  after  hours  and  repeat 
the  list  from  memory,  accurately  as  to  its  spelling 
and  sequence. 

This  was  a  fixed  procedure  which  no  teacher  dared 
modify  because  the  supervisor  came  around  and 
questioned  the  children  as  to  the  accuracy  of  the 
records  on  the  boards. 

Instead  of  protesting,  the  teacher  set  about  ac- 
quiring devices  which  would  give  the  desired  results 
with  the  minimum  of  effort  on  the  part  of  the  teacher 
and  pupils.  It  was  no  longer  a  question  of  teach- 
ing. It  was  simply  a  question  of  getting  the  better 
of  the  supervisor. 

My  method  was  simple  and  efficacious.  There 
was  no  place  where  I  could  get  twenty  new  words 
with  so  little  expenditure  of  time  and  effort  as  in  the 
dictionary.  The  dictionary  arrangement  offered  a 
valuable  aid  in  itself.  I  selected  two  a's,  two  b's, 
etc.,  until  I  had  the  desired  twenty. 

The  advantages  of  this  scheme  were  apparent  to 
the  children.  They  could  more  easily  remember 
and  check  up  their  list  when  it  was  based  upon  alpha- 


The  Background  13 

betical  arrangement.  The  per  cent,  of  my  returns 
then  became  high,  and  the  mental  strain  on  the  class 
and  teacher  was  reduced  to  the  minimum. 

Still  the  question  arose  in  my  mind — "  Why  must 
I  do  this  sort  of  thing?  " 

Another  year  passed  before  I  realised  that  my 
fellow  teachers  were  talking  about  Education,  the 
Science  of  Education  and  its  principles.  It  appeared 
that  in  the  universities  were  men  who  could  teach  a 
man  why  he  taught  and  how  to  do  it.  There  was 
one  thing  I  had  learned  and  that  was  the  insufficiency 
of  my  equipment  as  a  teacher.  Discipline,  boss 
standard,  was  nerve  taxing  and  not  altogether  pro- 
ductive. 

Ill 

After  two  years  of  teaching  I  found  myself  no- 
where, and  was  depressed.  I  questioned  the  value 
of  my  services  to  the  children.  The  work  I  did  was 
not  its  own  criticism  but  was  judged  by  some  one 
else  whose  standard  seemed  to  be  capricious,  depend- 
ing upon  his  humour  and  my  relation  to  him.  I 
felt  the  need  of  new  ideas  and  convictions,  and  I  de- 
cided to  go  to  the  university  to  see  what  those  who 
were  supposed  to  know  had  to  tell. 

I  wondered  if  my  return  to  college  with  the  de- 
liberate purpose  of  learning  what  I  wanted  definitely 
to  know,  would  prove  profitable. 


14       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year's  work  I  summed  it 
up.  First  one  institution  and  then  another  1  From 
this  professor,  and  a  little  later  from  that,  came 
words,  words,  words.  They  were  all  so  far  away, 
so  ineffectual,  so  dead.  I  was  disheartened. 

The  next  year,  however,  I  came  upon  the  thing  I 
needed.  This  was  a  course  with  Dr.  McMurry  and 
the  text-book  used  as  a  basis  of  discussion,  was 
Dewey's  Essay  on  "  Ethical  Principles." 

Here  were  strange  and  new  words  to  use  in  re- 
lation to  teaching.  Conduct  was  the  way  people  be- 
haved, and  it  had  little  to  do  with  learning,  as  such. 
But  conduct,  not  ability  to  recite  lessons,  was  the  real 
test  of  learning  and  the  sign  of  culture. 

Conduct  furnished  the  key  as  to  whether  the  child 
had  real  social  interests  and  intelligence  and  power. 
Conduct  meant  action,  whereas  school  meant  pas- 
sivity. Conduct  meant  individual  freedom  and  not 
blind  adherence  to  formulated  dogma.  The  knowl- 
edge gained  had  to  be  used  immediately  and  the 
worth  of  the  knowledge  judged  by  its  fitness  to  the 
immediate  needs  of  the  child. 

The  greatest  fallacy  of  the  child  education  was  the 
"  training-for-the-future  "  idea.  Training  for  the 
future  meant  dying  for  the  present. 

Conduct  said  the  child  was  a  being  constantly 
active,  rarely  silent,  never  a  purely  parrot-like  crea- 
ture. Conduct  said  the  teacher  must  keep  his  hands 


The  Background  15 

off;  he  must  watch  and  guide;  he  could  not  force;  he 
could  not  drive.  He  could  put  the  problems  but  the 
children  themselves  must  solve  them. 

The  disciplinary  habit  was  a  matter  of  action  on 
the  part  of  the  children  rather  than  one  of  silent 
obedience ;  judgment  was  a  matter  of  applied  knowl- 
edge and  not  word  juggling. 

Social  sympathy  was  the  result  of  close  contact, 
mutual  help,  common  work,  common  play,  judicious 
leadership.  Laughing,  talking,  dreaming  even,  were 
part  of  school  life,  the  give  and  take  of  the  group. 
Conduct  always  carried  the  idea  of  some  one  else; 
no  isolation,  no  selfishness. 

Then  the  whole  system  of  marking  and  punish- 
ment and  rewards  was  wrong.  It  was  putting  the 
child  on  the  lowest  plane  possible.  It  was  prevent- 
ing him  from  working  in  response  to  an  ideal. 

I  realised  then  that  the  child  must  move  and  not 
sit  still :  that  he  must  make  mistakes  and  not  merely 
repeat  perfect  forms:  that  he  must  be  himself  and 
not  a  miniature  reproduction  of  the  teacher.  The 
sacredness  of  the  child's  individuality  must  be  the 
moving  passion  of  the  teacher. 

These  things  I  learned  from  my  masters.  It  was 
a  wholesome  reaction  against  my  disciplinary  idea, 
and  a  healthy  soul-giving  impetus  to  my  daily  teach- 
ing. 

I  had  come  in  contact  with  the  personality  of  a 


1 6       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

great  teacher,  fearless,  candid,  and  keen,  with  noth- 
ing dogmatic  in  his  nature.  Under  this  leadership 
I  came  in  touch  with  vital  ideas  and  I  began  to  work, 
not  in  the  spirit  of  passive  obedience,  but  in  one  of 
mental  emancipation. 

There  was  a  new  pleasure  and  much  more  free- 
dom in  my  teaching.  I  went  back  to  the  children 
ready  to  challenge  their  intelligence,  keen  to  see  them 
grapple  and  solve  problems  set  for  them,  eager  to 
watch  them  carry  into  their  daily  lives  the  ideas  of 
the  school. 

I  looked  back  into  my  own  experiences,  analysed 
them,  built  them  up,  and  through  them  interpreted 
the  struggles  of  the  children  before  me.  The  God 
of  Discipline  was  replaced  by  the  God  of  Watchful- 
ness. 

I  tried  to  carry  over  into  classroom  practice  the 
results  of  what  I  had  learned.  I  tried  to  teach  in 
the  light  of  the  saner  point  of  view.  My  super- 
visors objected  to  the  variations  I  was  trying  to  in- 
troduce into  the  teaching  of  history,  spelling  and  the 
rest. 

'  You'll  find  those  things  may  be  all  right  in  the- 
ory but  they  will  not  do  in  practice,"  they  said. 
But  I  refused  to  compromise,  to  yield  to  beliefs 
merely  because  I  was  told  to  do  so  or  because  others 
about  me  yielded  to  beliefs  and  policies. 

Just  when  the  feeling  came  upon  me  that  I  was 


The  Background  17 

really  beginning  to  enter  into  the  secret  of  child 
training  the  principal  came  to  me  and  said,  "  You 
are  wasting  your  time.  You  are  wasting  the  chil- 
dren's time.  You  are  totally  unfit  for  this  work. 
If  I  had  a  son  he  should  not  be  put  in  your  class." 

His  idea  was  that,  unless  you  ground  children 
down  and  made  them  do  as  you  wanted  them  to, 
they  would  have  no  fear  and  respect  for  you.  It 
was  the  master  and  the  slave  idea.  When  the 
teacher  rebelled  the  scourge  of  sarcasm  was  relent- 
less. 

There  were  times  when  I  felt  that  he  would  have 
been  pleased  to  have  lowered  my  "  ratings  "  to  the 
point  where  I  would  have  been  compelled  to  retire 
from  the  profession,  yet  he  refrained  because  he 
too,  was  compromising  with  himself. 

When  I  changed  from  his  educational  philosophy 
to  mine,  his  comment  was,  "  Why  is  it  you  will  not 
do  as  I  tell  you?  " 

What  he  did  not  know  was  that  if  he  had  treated 
me  kindly  and  asked  for  co-operation,  allowed  me 
some  form  of  self  expression,  he  would  have  had 
a  wealth  of  enthusiasm  to  call  upon. 

Self  respect  compelled  me  to  change  schools,  and 
I  went  away,  every  fibre  of  my  being  indignant  at 
his  oppression. 


1 8       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  C.V/v 


IV 

The  next  principal  I  found  lived  the  doctrine,  "  I 
serve  children." 

Here  was  a  man  who  actually  loved  school  chil- 
dren; who  enjoyed  coming  into  personal  contact 
with  them  in  the  classroom,  the  yards,  the  streets  and 
their  occupations.  He  helped  clothe  the  poor  chil- 
dren and  feed  them,  washed  the  dirty  faces  when 
he  found  them,  and  all  with  the  utmost  kindliness  and 
in  the  belief  that  such  service  was  a  wonderful  privi- 
lege that  had  been  granted  him.  All  about  him  was 
the  radiance  and  glow  of  progress. 

He  always  told  this  story  with  sadness  as  one  of 
the  incidents  of  his  school  life.  A  boy  had  been 
brought  to  him  for  habitual  lateness  and  without 
stopping  to  question  him  he  berated  him  for  his  lazi- 
ness while  the  child  stood  silent  and  patient.  When 
the  principal  awoke  to  the  situation  he  asked, 
"  Why  were  you  late,  anyway?  " 

The  boy  replied  that  he  had  to  work  till  three 
o'clock  each  morning  in  order  to  help  the  family. 
The  principal  apologised  and  made  the  boy  feel 
that  he  understood  and  sympathised  with  his  strug- 
gles. 

So  he  was  with  the  teachers,  and  with  me. 

To  each  of  us  he  seemed  to  say,  "  You  are  tired, 


The  Background  19 

brother,  come  to  me  and  let  me  hold  your  quivering 
hands  in  my  strong,  steady  ones.  Come  to  me  and 
let  me  stroke  your  hot,  tired  eyes  with  my  cool 
fingers.  I  know  what  makes  you  tired  for  I,  too, 
have  been  tired  and  worn  out. 

"  Sometimes  even  now,  I  get  tired  when  I  forget 
the  bigness  of  the  things  I  want  to  do.  Those  faces 
that  you  see  in  the  classroom  are  not  set  against  you, 
my  brother.  They  are  set  against  the  things  that 
bind  you  and  prevent  your  mind  from  mingling  freely 
with  others. 

"  You  must  not  think  too  much  of  arithmetic,  and 
rules  and  dates  and  examinations,  for  these  are  not 
teaching;  the  children  don't  grow  because  of  them. 
They  grow  because  of  their  contact  with  you,  the 
best  that  you  know  and  feel. 

"  Come  with  me  to  the  open  country  and  let  us 
live  together  for  awhile.  There  we  will  be  silent 
and  look  into  the  hearts  of  children  as  we  do  into 
the  heart  of  nature. 

;'  When  we  come  back  the  school  will  be  as  a  new 
world  and  you  will  work  with  the  earnestness  of  a 
discoverer  patiently  awaiting  revelations." 

The  thought  of  him  always  makes  me  feel  strong 
and  fresh  as  a  boy  who  runs  shouting  through  the 
cool  air  of  a  spring  morning.  I  stretch  my  arms 
and  open  wide  my  eyes  and  shout  the  faith  that  he 
gave  me. 


2O       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

Promotion  came  and  I  found  myself  in  another 
school.  There  was  little  of  special  interest  in  my 
experience  in  this  place.  Placed  in  charge  of  a 
graduating  class,  I  was  supposed  to  teach  science  to 
the  boys  of  the  seventh  and  eighth  grades.  The 
only  way  I  could  do  this  was  to  carry  whatever  ap- 
paratus I  needed  from  room  to  room.  Batteries, 
tubes,  jars,  pails,  water,  gas  burners  followed  me 
about.  As  I  passed  down  the  stairs  and  through  the 
halls  I  looked  like  a  small  moving  van.  In  this  de- 
partmental system  the  teacher  moved,  not  the  chil- 
dren, because  the  movement  of  the  children  would 
cause  too  much  noise,  too  much  confusion.  School 
was  the  place  for  silence  I 

At  the  end  of  two  months  I  moved  again.  *  This 
time  it  was  a  graduating  class  in  a  school  on  the 
lower  west  side  of  the  city.  The  building  was  more 
than  fifty  years  old.  It  fitted  well  with  the  general 
neighbourhood  picture.  It  was  all  run  down. 
There  was  a  miscellaneous  sort  of  population,  a 
mixture  of  races  and  colour.  The  boys  lived  along 
the  docks,  in  the  rear  of  factory  yards  where  the 
men  found  employment. 

The  first  morning,  when  I  announced  to  the  prin- 
cipal that  I  was  a  new  teacher,  he  looked  at  me 
doubtfully  and  said,  "  Why,  this  won't  do,  you  don't 
want  to  come  here.  You  are  only  a  boy.  You  are 
not  old  enough  nor  strong  enough  1  The  boys  in 


The  Background  21 

that  corner  room  broke  the  teacher's  eyeglasses  and 
he  was  a  bigger  man  than  you  are.  They  threw  the 
ink  wells  and  the  books  out  of  the  window.  You 
don't  want  to  come  here." 

When  I  saw  the  assembly  a  few  minutes  later  I 
agreed  with  him.  I  did  not  want  to  be  there. 

I  sat  on  the  platform  while  the  principal  conducted 
the  exercises.  There  was  scarcely  a  child  in  the 
room  who  was  not  either  talking  or  chewing  gum,  or 
slouching  in  his  seat.  There  was  a  spirit  of  unrest 
throughout  the  monotonous  assembly.  There  was 
nothing  about  the  general  exercises  that  could  offer 
the  slightest  inspiration  to  either  children  or  teacher. 
Two  or  three  of  the  men  walked  up  and  down  the 
room  eyeing  the  boys,  and  the  women,  each  at  her 
place,  had  their  eyes  riveted  on  their  classes. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  all  this  close  supervision,  the  chil- 
dren were  not  behaving  as  if  they  were  happy  or  as 
if  they  liked  school.  At  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes 
they  were  sent  to  their  rooms  and  the  work  of  the 
day  began.  What  work  that  was  no  one  could  ap- 
preciate unless  he  had  gone  through  the  halls  of  the 
building  and  felt  the  struggle  that  was  going  on  in 
each  room.  The  very  walls  seemed  to  speak  of 
tension  and  battle. 

The  antagonism  between  the  children  and  teachers 
was  far  stronger  than  I  had  ever  seen  it  before. 
The  antagonism  between  the  school  and  the  neigh- 


22       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

bourhood  was  intense.  Both  came  from  mutual  dis- 
trust founded  on  mutual  misunderstanding.  The 
children  were  afraid  of  the  teachers,  and  the  teachers 
feared  the  children. 

The  neighbourhood  was  a  place  from  which  the 
teacher  escaped,  and  into  which  the  children  bur- 
rowed. One  never  knew  as  he  went  through  the 
streets  what  missile  or  epithet  might  greet  him.  One 
or  the  other  was  certain. 

I  do  not  remember  a  period  in  my  life  when  I  was 
more  silent  and  soberminded  than  during  the  first 
six  months  of  my  career  in  this  school.  Day  in  and 
day  out  I  sat  quietly  scarcely  saying  an  unnecessary 
word  and  by  gestures  rathei  than  speech  indicating 
to  the  children  what  I  wanted  done. 

I  went  through  the  building  silent,  rarely  speaking. 
I  looked  out  upon  the  streets,  silent.  I  visited  the 
shops  and  listened  to  the  talk  of  the  fathers.  I 
visited  some  of  the  homes.  Here  too,  I  talked  lit- 
tle, trying  to  get  people  to  talk  to  me. 

The  school  was  failing.  I  was  failing  and  my 
whole  mind  was  concentrated  upon  finding  the  cause 
and  the  remedy. 

After  school  hours  I  would  stare  out  of  the  win- 
dows and  look  out  upon  the  strange  mixture  of  peo- 
ple with  their  prejudices,  their  sensitiveness  and  their 
shiftlessness  and  ponder  upon  the  gulf  between  them 
and  me. 


The  Background  23 

There  was  no  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  school 
to  understand  the  problem  and  to  direct  the  lives  of 
the  pupils.  In  fact,  teaching  the  curriculum  was  the 
routine  business  of  the  day  —  no  more.  There  was 
apparently  little  affection  for  the  children,  and  no  in- 
terest in  the  parents  as  co-workers  in  their  education. 

When  the  principal  assigned  the  assembly  exer- 
cises and  the  discipline  of  the  school  to  me,  I  was 
glad.  I  had  learned  to  believe  in  children.  I  had 
begun  to  analyse  my  own  childhood  more  carefully. 
Here  was  an  opportunity  to  test  my  knowledge  in  a 
larger  way  than  the  classroom  offered. 

I  began  by  telling  the  boys  what  a  fine  assembly 
was  like  in  other  schools.  Once  more  I  resorted  to 
stories.  They  never  failed.  Father  had  done  his 
share  nobly.  The  big  restless  crowd  settled  down 
and  listened.  As  each  day  went  by,  cautiously  I  put 
the  problem  of  school  discipline  before  them  and 
they  responded  by  taking  over  much  of  the  responsi- 
bility for  it  themselves.  A  sort  of  council  was  held 
in  my  room  each  week  at  which  the  problems  of  the 
school  were  discussed.  From  fifty  to  one  hundred 
of  the  most  responsible  boys  in  the  school  attended 
and  as  there  were  only  about  twelve  hundred  in  all, 
the  representatives  were  fairly  adequate  to  the  need. 

This  experience  helped  me  wonderfully.  Through 
it  I  gained,  increased  confidence  in  the  children,  in 
the  power  of  the  school,  in  myself. 


CHAPTER  II 

IN   THE   SCHOOL 


Now  came  my  appointment  as  principal.  I 
stretched  my  arms  and  said,  "  Free  at  last,  my  own 
master  1  I  am  limited  only  by  my  own  vision." 

I  entered  the  new  school,  "  My  school,"  as  I 
proudly  called  it.  There  it  was,  a  big,  massive 
structure  towering  like  a  fortress  above  the  elevated 
lines,  fronting  a  large  public  park,  the  airy  rooms 
full  of  sunshine. 

It  did  not  look  out  into  the  back-yards  of  tene- 
ments. No  smell  of  leaking  gas  stoves  came  in 
through  the  open  windows.  In  other  days,  if  I 
gazed  out  of  a  school  window  I  looked  into  the 
homes  of  the  neighbours  —  squalid,  noisy  homes 
they  were.  Whenever  there  was  a  quarrel,  the  loud 
shrieks  and  the  bad  language  broke  in  upon  the  class- 
room recitation,  and  made  the  children  blush  and 
break  into  nervous  laughter.  They  were  ashamed 
of  their  parents  and  their  neighbourhood. 

This  new  school  of  mine  seemed  altogether  dif- 

24 


In  the  School  25 

ferent.  I  looked  out  of  my  office  window  at  the  trees 
on  the  hill  beyond  and  watched  them  sway  in  the 
wind,  like  the  restless  backs  of  many  elephants.  I 
saw  the  open  spaces,  the  sunlight,  the  park,  and  I  re- 
joiced. These,  I  knew,  were  the  teacher's  best 
friends. 

The  day  after  my  installation  I  went  to  my  office 
ready  to  begin  on  "  my  school "  and  carry  it  up  to 
the  heights  of  power  and  efficiency.  "  My  school  " 
should  come  into  its  own.  I  do  not  remember  now 
whether  I  intended  to  accomplish  this  in  a  day  or  a 
month,  or  a  year,  for  as  I  sat  thinking  about  it  the 
half-past  eight  gong  rang  sharply,  insistently.  It 
brought  me  up-standing  in  the  office  door.  I  heard 
bell  after  bell  beginning  in  the  first  room  and  follow 
in  order  from  floor  to  floor,  shrill  out  its  call,  cease, 
pass  on  its  message  to  its  neighbour  in  the  next  class- 
room to  pass  it  along  to  the  next,  like  a  chain  of 
energy  linking  up  the  classrooms  for  the  day's 
work.  I  had  never  heard  anything  quite  like  that 
before. 

Then  came  the  measured  rhythm  of  many  feet. 
From  six  entrances  the  children  surged  through  the 
halls  and  into  their  classrooms.  I  had  a  blurred  im- 
pression of  sound,  and  colour  and  motion  and  many, 
many  children  and  teachers  all  going  swiftly  by.  I 
saw  no  individual  faces,  no  distinct  forms,  just  the 
great  mass  surging  past.  Stunned  and  bewildered  I 


26       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

stood  where  I  was  until  I  realised  that  a  great  silence 
had  settled  over  the  building.  The  big  school 
had  begun  its  day's  work  and  begun  it  without 
me. 

I  sat  down  at  my  desk  because  I  didn't  know  what 
else  to  do.  The  clerk  came  in  with  the  mail.  The 
former  principal  who  was  still  in  the  building  with 
the  fifteen  hundred  children  he  was  to  take  to  the 
new  school  came  in  to  arrange  some  details  of  ad- 
ministration. With  him  I  went  over  the  number  of 
classes  in  the  school,  the  teachers  who  were  to  go 
and  stay,  the  district  lines  and  the  number  of  chil- 
dren to  be  transferred  in  and  out.  This  done  he 
walked  out  of  the  office. 

I  was  about  to  gather  myself  together  and  take 
hold  of  "  my  school,"  and  then  the  gong  rang  again. 
I  heard  doors  roll,  bells  trill,  sharp  commands, 
rhythmic  footsteps,  and  the  great  surge  of  sound  and 
colour  and  motion  passed  me  again,  children  going 
in,  children  going  out.  They  moved  in  classes,  eyes 
front,  hats  off.  A  mass  of  children  coming  in  to 
take  the  places  of  the  mass  that  was  going  out. 
There  was  no  time  lost,  just  a  tramp,  tramp,  a  roll 
of  a  door,  as  it  opened,  a  click  as  it  shut  and  then 
silence  as  before. 

The  next  day  was  the  same  —  and  the  next!  I 
had  not  taken  hold.  I  left  the  office  and  walked 
through  the  school,  corridors,  classrooms  and  play- 


In  the  School  27 

grounds  listening  and  watching,  trying  to  get  an 
idea  here  and  there. 

I  passed  the  open  door  of  a  classroom  and  saw  a 
teacher  smiling  down  at  a  little  boy  and  all  the  other 
little  boys  smiling  sympathetically  at  both.  I  was 
glad  and  walked  towards  the  teacher.  Instantly  the 
smile  disappeared,  her  body  grew  tense,  the  little  boy 
sat  down  and  all  the  other  little  boys  sat  up  stiff  and 
straight  and  put  their  hands  behind  them. 

I  tried  to  say  something  pleasant  but  I  saw  they 
were  afraid  of  me  and  I  went  away. 

I  went  into  another  room  and  the  teacher  was  in- 
tent upon  a  little  book,  she  was  marking,  and  at  the 
same  time  telling  a  boy  that  she  hoped  he'd  learn 
something  about  grammar  before  he  died,  but  she 
doubted  it. 

Without  lifting  her  eyes  and  so  missing  seeing  me, 
she  said,  "Walter,  analyse,  .*  Come  here.' ' 

A  boy  whose  thoughts  were  a  long  way  off  jumped 
up  and  said — "Simple  declarative,  Come  is  the 
subject  —  here  is  the  predicate  verb,"  and  sat  down. 

The  class  laughed  heartily  and  the  teacher  said 
as  she  marked  his  failure,  "  Fine  —  But  you  forgot 
something —  Come  is  the  subject,  here  is  the  pre- 
dicate, the  period  is  the  object." 

Everybody  laughed.  Walter  shook  himself  and 
analysed  the  sentence  correctly.  Then  they  realised 
my  presence  and  froze  over.  The  teacher  apolo- 


28       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

gised  for  not  having  noticed  my  entrance  saying  she 
thought  it  was  one  of  the  boys  and  asking  me  to  be 
seated  but  I  saw  she  was  uncomfortable  and  I  left. 

A  teacher  brought  me  a  disciplinary  case.  Be- 
fore she  could  tell  me  the  trouble  she  burst  into 
tears.  When  I  tried  to  tell  her  there  was  nothing 
to  cry  about  she  but  cried  the  harder. 

Was  she  afraid  of  the  new  principal?  Why 
should  she  be  afraid  of  him?  Yet  the  scene  was 
somewhat  familiar.  Oh,  I  remembered  —  '  You 
are  wasting  your  time.  You  are  wasting  the  chil- 
dren's time.  You  are  totally  unfit  for  this  work.  If 
I  had  a  son  he  should  not  be  in  your  class/1 

Was  that  it? 

This  was  bad.  The  teachers  did  not  want  me  in 
the  classrooms.  They  cried  when  they  came  to  the 
office. 

I'd  make  friends  with  the  children.  But  I  could 
not  get  at  them.  They  were  in  classes  in  the  rooms 
—  in  masses  in  the  yards  and  corridors.  Only  the 
occasional  bad  one  stood  out  as  an  individual  with 
whom  I  could  come  in  personal  contact. 

"  My  Dream  School  "  was  not  so  easy. 

I  thought  a  great  deal  about  the  situation.  I 
know  now  that  in  those  first  days  I  interpreted  the 
school  through  my  finger  tips  and  eyes  and  ears 
rather  than  through  my  intellect.  I  saw  and  heard 
the  disorderly  boy.  I  ached  physically  and  mentally 


In  the  School  29 

over  the  weak  teacher,  I  saw  every  mistake  she  made, 
I  heard  every  faulty  intonation  of  her  voice  and  felt 
a  sense  of  personal  injury.  Why  was  she  like  that? 
Why  couldn't  she  be  big  and  fine?  And  the  strong 
teacher!  Why  weren't  they  all  like  that?  That 
was  the  way  I  wanted  them.  They  must  all  meas- 
ure up  to  the  best.  I  rather  felt  than  saw  the  peaks 
and  hollows. 

But  in  this  restless,  uncertain  sea  of  motion,  noise, 
colour  and  gongs;  of  constant  going  up-stairs  and 
down-stairs,  one  learned  to  "  go  slow  "  and  watch 
and  wait  for  his  opportunity. 

In  my  discouragement  I  told  an  older  principal 
about  my  efforts  and  failures. 

;<  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  said  in  a  puzzled  fash- 
ion. "  I  don't  understand  you." 

"  I've  tried  to  have  the  teachers  and  children  feel 
that  I'm  their  friend,  that  I'm  eager  to  help  them  but 
I  don't  seem  to  be  able  to  get  them  to  speak  or  act 
freely  in  my  presence.  They  are  afraid  of  me !  " 

"Afraid  of  you?  Of  course  they  are  and  they 
ought  to  be.  The  teachers  and  children  are  all  right. 
You'll  find  them  well  trained.  They  will  do  your 
bidding  without  question.  Take  my  advice  if  you 
want  any  peace  of  mind  and  keep  them  under  your 
thumb." 

These  were  not  the  exact  words  that  had  disheart- 
ened me  years  before,  but  the  idea  was  the  same, 


3°       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

and  I  remembered  and  understood.  There  was 
little  danger  of  forgetting,  I  came  upon  this  blind 
obedience  repeatedly.  Obedience,  the  loyal  obe- 
dience that  was  school  tradition. 

"  Let's  try  to  have  the  children  come  to  school 
fresh  and  clean,"  said  I  one  day  to  a  group  of 
teachers.  "  Praise  those  who  come  in  clean  blouses 
and  with  well  brushed  hair." 

Shortly  after  this  a  mother  came  in  to  see  me. 
She  laid  a  little  package  on  my  desk. 

"  Please,  I  bring  you  back  this  shirt." 

Startled,  I  echoed,  "  Shirt?     What  shirt?  " 

"  This  shirt  that  the  teacher  gave  my  Jonas." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  I  said. 

'  The  teacher  said  if  they  were  good  and  sat  up 
tall  so  that  they  got  *  A  '  from  the  Lady  Principal  she 
would  give  them  a  blouse.  Jonas  told  me  and  I  told 
him  he  should  try  hard  and  get  a  blouse.  So  he  did. 
He  tried  and  tried  and  got  one.  But  this  blouse  I 
don't  like.  Never  I  put  a  thin  blouse  on  Jonas  in 
February  —  only  in  April.  I  want  you  should  take 
this  back  and  give  him  a  flannel  one  —  a  red  one  he 
likes." 

Here  she  pulled  the  wrapping  off  a  pretty  little 
blue  and  white  cotton  blouse,  and  beamingly  pre- 
sented it  to  me. 

Turning  over  her  story  in  my  mind  I  remembered 
she  had  said  the  "  Lady  Principal."  I  went  in  search 


In  the  School  31 

of  my  assistant  and  handing  her  the  blouse  I  said, 
"  Do  you  know  anything  about  that?  " 

"  No,  but  maybe  I  would  understand  if  you  told 
me  how  you  came  by  it." 

I  told  her  and  she  chuckled. 

"  Surely  that's  Miss  North.  You  said  to  get  the 
children  to  come  in  clean  blouses  so  she  talked  to 
them  daily  and  when  I  visited  the  room  she  showed 
me  the  boys  I  was  to  commend  for  neat  appearance 
and  encourage  for  their  efforts  to  clean  up." 

"  Let's  go  in  and  see  the  teacher,"  I  suggested, 
still  in  the  dark. 

As  we  entered  each  little  boy  sat  in  the  middle  of 
his  tiny  bench,  each  held  a  primer  carefully  covered 
in  brown  paper  with  a  red  edged  name-paster  pre- 
cisely fixed  in  the  centre  of  the  front  cover;  each 
wore  a  light  coloured  wash  blouse — (I  counted 
seven  of  the  same  sort  as  the  one  on  my  desk) . 

The  sunshine  came  in  through  the  windows  and 
made  little  rainbows  dance  above  the  aquarium  where 
the  fishes  looked  as  if  they'd  just  been  polished  and 
put  in  their  places. 

II  How  fine  you  look,"  said  the  Lady  Principal. 

1  Yes,  we're  all  dressed  for  school.     Do  you  think 
we  can  have  A  to-day?  "  asked  the  smiling  teacher. 
"  I  surely  do.     They're  the  cleanest  boys  in  town." 
"  How  do  you  manage  about  Jonas?  "  I  asked. 
"  He  came  without  his  new  blouse  and  I  had  an 


32       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

extra  one,  so  I  just  slipped  it  over  his  other  one  so 
they'd  all  be  alike.  Til  take  it  off  when  he  goes  out 
and  keep  it  for  him.1* 

The  teacher  had  done  her  level  best  to  carry  out 
the  principal's  wishes.  If  the  children  would  not 
wear  clean  blouses  she  would  go  out  and  buy  them 
herself.  If  Jonas  left  his  at  home  she  would  give 
him  an  extra  one.  At  all  events  the  principal  must 
be  obeyed  and  the  class  get  an  "  A  "  rating. 

"  The  teachers  and  children  are  all  right.  You'll 
find  them  well  trained.  They  will  do  your  bidding 
without  question." 

II 

I  could  not  accept  that  point  of  view.  When  the 
other  principal  and  the  group  of  fifteen  hundred  chil- 
dren with  their  teachers  went  to  the  new  building  I 
said  to  myself,  "  Now  I  can  do  it.  We'll  have  more 
room,  we'll  have  fewer  children  to  a  teacher,  I  can 
get  closer  to  them  all." 

What  a  relief  from  the  hurry,  the  mass  move- 
ment. Twenty-five  hundred  children  in  place  of 
four  thousand.  The  school  seemed  half  empty. 
School  hours  were  again  normal,  five  hours  a  day, 
each  teacher  in  her  own  room,  no  hurry  to  get  out  so 
that  the  next  class  might  come  in.  Nine  o'clock  to 
three  and  as  long  after  three  as  the  teachers  cared 
to  stay.  There  was  plenty  of  room  to  work  and 


In  the  School  33 

plenty  of  opportunity  for  the  teachers  to  meet  and 
plan  and  develop. 

I  called  the  teachers  together  and  tried  to  tell 
them  what  I  believed  a  good  school  meant  in  terms 
of  children  and  teachers.  I  tried  to  make  them  feel 
that  I  was  going  to  take  my  share  of  every  hard  prob- 
lem in  the  school  day.  The  bad  child,  the  slow  one, 
the  dirty  one,  were  my  responsibility  as  well  as  the 
teacher's  and  I  wanted  to  help  each  teacher  with  each 
one  of  her  difficulties.  I  told  them  of  the  finer 
things  I  had  seen  about  the  school  and  asked  for 
more  and  more  of  them  until  the  whole  school  should 
become  a  fine  place  for  children  and  teachers  to  live 
in. 

The  first  response  to  my  offer  of  help  was  an  ap- 
peal from  a  teacher  to  discipline  a  boy. 

The  teacher  came  to  the  office  before  the  work  of 
the  day  had  begun.  She  entered  nervously  and  stood 
before  me  like  a  prisoner  awaiting  sentence. 

Haltingly  she  began,  "  You  said  I  could  come  to 
you  with  a  bad  boy.  Here  he  is,  I  can't  do  anything 
with  him.  He's  awful." 

Then  the  tears  came.  I  took  the  boy  out  of  the 
office  and  waited  long  enough  to  give  the  teacher  a 
chance  to  recover. 

"  Now  tell  me  about  it." 

"  He's  a  very  bad  boy.  I've  had  him  now  a  term 
and  a  half  almost.  He  won't  work  and  he  won't  let 


34       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

anybody  else  work.  I've  kept  him  in  every  day  until 
five  o'clock  but  it  docs  no  good.  He  swears  in  the 
classroom  and  yesterday  he  threatened  to  hit  me. 
He's  an  orphan.  He's  been  in  the  Protectory  and 
he's  on  parole  now.  If  he  goes  on  I'll  be  home  sick 
and  it's  too  bad !  "  Here  she  almost  cried  again. 

"  Never  mind  now,  I'm  glad  you  brought  him  to 
me.  He  won't  give  you  any  more  trouble.  But 
tell  me  —  Why  did  you  stand  this  so  long?  Why 
didn't  you  refer  him  to  the  office  long  ago?  " 

She  hesitated  for  a  minute  then  said,  "  I  was 
afraid  it  would  be  counted  against  my  record  and 
I'm  up  for  my  permanent  license." 

"  Well,  it  won't  count  against  you  and  I  think  this 
particular  boy  won't  bother  you  again." 

Smiling  faintly  she  thanked  me  and  went  to  her 
room,  but  I  noticed  it  was  weeks  before  the  worried 
expression  left  her  face  and  she  could  smile  without 
effort. 

In  every  class  there  is  one,  at  least  one,  so  called 
"  bad  child."  He  comes  to  the  classroom,  his  brain 
teeming  with  the  experiences  of  street  life.  He  lives 
at  top  speed  during  the  hours  that  he  is  not  in  school. 
He  is  master  in  the  street  and  in  the  home,  and  he 
would  be  master  in  the  school.  He  looks  at  his  class- 
mates with  sophisticated  scorn  and  at  his  teacher  with 
open  contempt.  The  whole  machinery  of  the  class- 


In  the  School  35 

room  must  stop  while  he  holds  the  centre  of  the 
stage.  The  teacher  struggles  desperately  to  hold  the 
class.  From  the  moment  the  first  recitation  bell 
rings  in  the  morning  until  the  last  pupil  closes  the 
door  behind  him  at  night  she  must  strive  by  every 
ruse  known  to  the  teacher  to  keep  the  bad  child  under 
while  she  teaches  the  good  children.  The  strain  is 
terrible  and  out  of  all  proportion.  But  why  doesn't 
the  teacher  send  the  child  out  of  the  room  and  con- 
tinue the  work  in  peace?  Why  should  a  whole 
class  suffer  for  one  child? 

I  made  it  a  point  to  visit  each  room  at  least  twice 
a  day.  As  I  went  the  rounds  I  saw  the  "  bad  boy  " 
standing  in  the  corner  or  by  the  teacher's  desk  or 
sitting  sullenly  by  himself  where  there  happened  to 
be  room. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  this  morning?  "  I  asked 
as  I  entered  each  room. 

"  I  wish  you  would  attend  to  John.  I  can't  get 
along  with  him.  He  is  a  constant  source  of  annoy- 
ance. He  talks  and  interrupts  the  lesson.  He  has 
talked  four  times  in  the  last  hour.  I  do  not  want 
him  in  my  room  any  more." 

"  John,  come  with  me."  John  came  and  I  led 
him  to  the  office. 

"What  did  you  do?  "I  asked. 

"  I  talked  to  the  boy  next  to  me.  He  asked  me  a 
question  and  I  answered." 


36       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

"  How  many  times  did  you  do  this?  " 

'*  I  don't  know.     I  talked  a  lot,  I  guess." 

44  Why  did  you  disturb  the  lesson?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

That  is  the  most  persistent  answer  a  "  bad  boy  " 
gives.  No  matter  what  the  question  or  how  strong 
the  evidence  against  him  he  holds  on  as  long  as  he 
can  to  "  I  don't  know." 

*  You  have  got  to  stop  this  nonsense,"  I  said 
finally.  *  There  is  only  one  way  to  get  back  to  your 
class.  You  interrupted  the  class  work.  First  you 
must  make  good  your  work.  Second  you  must  make 
up  your  mind  not  to  be  disorderly  again.  You're 
wasting  your  time  and  that  of  your  teacher  and  class- 
mates. Sit  down  there  and  think  it  over.  When 
you  have  made  up  your  mind  let  me  know." 

When  John  agreed  that  he  had  been  foolish  I 
went  back  to  the  room  with  him  and  told  the  class 
how  sorry  I  was  that  they  had  lost  any  part  of  their 
time  and  work  through  John's  disorder.  I  hoped 
that  they  would  not  be  troubled  again  in  such  a  way. 
John  had  agreed  that  he  had  no  right  to  use  his 
time  and  theirs  in  such  a  silly  fashion.  He  had 
agreed  to  make  good  his  work  and  he  would  apolo- 
gise to  the  class  for  wasting  their  time. 

A  boy,  especially  a  boy  who  has  been  master  in  the 
street  and  in  the  home  and  would  be  master  in  the 
school,  will  not  risk  being  humbled  before  his  class- 


In  the  School  37 

mates.  Just  as  long  as  his  offence  is  an  offence 
against  the  teacher  it  is  an  heroic  offence,  but  when 
it  is  an  offence  against  the  group,  the  heroism  dis- 
appears. 

But  just  to  see  what  might  happen  next,  John  re- 
fused to  "  make  good."  The  parent  was  called  in. 
It  was  the  father  because  where  John  was  concerned 
the  mother  would  not  do.  .  .  . 

"  I  can't  come  here  about  this  boy.  This  is  the 
second  complaint  in  three  weeks.  First  my  wife  and 
now  myself.  I  have  lost  a  day  from  my  work  and  I 
can't  afford  it.  What's  the  matter  now?  Your 
teachers  are  constantly  nagging  my  boy.  Why  don't 
you  leave  him  alone  ?  First  one  teacher  and  then  an- 
other. This  never  happened  until  you  came  to  this 
school.  I  am  a  taxpayer  and  I  know  my  rights.  I 
want  you  to  put  that  boy  back  in  his  class,  and  if  you 
don't,  I'll  go  higher  up." 

"  As  a  taxpayer  you  should  be  the  last  one  to  en- 
courage wasting  school  money." 

"  I  am,  I  won't  stand  for  it.  I'm  telling  you, 
I'm  going  to  the  commissioner." 

"  But  your  son  is  wasting  it.  He's  been  left  back 
twice  now.  If  we  cannot  get  him  to  get  down  to 
work  he'll  be  left  back  again,  which  means  you've 
paid  three  times  for  something  for  your  boy  and 
haven't  received  it  yet.  Besides  that,  he's  wasting 
other  boys'  time  and  they'll  be  left  back  and  you'll 


38       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

have  to  pay  your  share  for  them  and  get  nothing 
either.  I'm  trying  to  save  John's  school  time  and 
your  money,  but  if  you  and  I  together  can't  make 
John  see  it,  I  am  afraid  I  won't  be  able  to  do  it 
alone." 

"  I  can't  make  him  see  it?  See  here,  young  man, 
I'm  the  father  of  six  and  I've  made  them  all  see  it. 
Send  that  boy  down  here." 

"  No  more  trouble  with  John,"  I  said  to  myself. 

Sometimes  I  found  a  child  under  discipline  for  a 
trifling  offence.  I  discovered  Mary  standing  in  front 
of  the  room  making  believe  she  liked  it. 

I  asked  the  teacher  what  was  the  trouble. 

"  Chewing  gum,"  she  answered.  "  I've  said  they 
must  not  bring  it  into  the  room  and  this  morning 
right  in  the  middle  of  the  arithmetic  lesson  I  looked 
down  at  Mary  and  her  jaws  were  going  sixty  to  the 
minute  so  I  just  stood  her  there.  You  can  sit  down 
now,  Mary." 

When  I  got  a  chance  I  asked  the  teacher  if  she 
hadn't  got  the  gum  chewing  a  bit  out  of  perspective. 

'*  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  asked. 

"  Mary  lost  her  arithmetic  lesson,  didn't  she?  " 

"  She  surely  did  and  part  of  her  spelling  lesson." 

"  Weren't  her  lessons  very  important?  —  Weren't 
they  what  she  had  come  to  school  for  that  day?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  Wouldn't  your  end  have  been  accomplished  if 


In  the  School  39 

you  had  signalled  to  Mary  to  get  rid  of  the  gum 
and  handed  her  an  example  to  work  on  the  board 
putting  the  emphasis  on  the  duty  in  hand  rather  than 
on  her  little  offence?  " 

"  Maybe  you're  right,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  I'll 
think  about  it  that  way." 

When  the  disciplinary  cases  had  been  systemati- 
cally looked  after  some  of  the  pressure  was  removed 
from  the  teacher's  life.  Less  and  less  frequently  did 
I  hear  the  teacher's  voice  pitched  to  the  breaking 
point  as  she  said,  "  Why  don't  you  behave?  " 

Gradually  the  children  began  to  feel  that  the 
school  was  with  them  and  for  them  and  began  to  as- 
sume responsibility  for  it.  They  economised  school 
time  by  arranging  and  distributing  material  for  the 
day's  work.  They  began  to  take  care  of  themselves 
in  the  halls  relieving  the  teachers  of  that  duty. 
They  ceased  marking  the  walls  and  picked  up  the 
scattered  papers  without  being  told  to  do  so. 

I  saw  Peter  walk  across  the  yard  and  pick  up  a 
lollipop  wrapper  and  put  it  in  the  can  and  I  re- 
membered the  day  when  the  yard  teacher  had 
ordered  Peter  to  pick  up  his  own  luncheon  paper  and 
Peter  had  said,  "  That's  what  the  janitor's  for,"  and 
remembering  I  thought,  "  My  school  is  moving  on." 

Whenever  a  problem  arose  that  concerned  the 
school  as  a  whole,  I  put  the  problem  at  the  school 
assembly  and  whenever  a  child  responded  to  the 


40       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

school  need  I  spoke  of  him  as  one  who  was  serving 
the  school.  Gradually  this  thought  of  being 
"  square  "  with  one's  classmates  was  carried  out  of 
the  classroom  till  it  became  the  thought  of  being 
"  square  "  with  the  school. 

Henry  came  to  school  with  his  face  and  body 
bruised.  I  asked  him  what  was  the  matter.  He 
answered  some  boys  had  hit  him.  Upon  investiga- 
tion Henry  had  been  present  when  the  "  Flanni- 
gans  "  had  tried  to  search  some  of  our  smaller  chil- 
dren. Henry  had  protested  and  then  followed  up 
his  protest  with  force  and  while  the  smaller  children 
got  away  Henry  "  had  stayed  on  the  job  "  as  he  put 
it  and  "  been  beaten  up  for  his  trouble." 

"  My  school  is  getting  on,"  I  thought. 

But  was  it?  That  day  I  stopped  to  talk  to  a 
group  of  teachers  who  were  chatting  with  my  assist- 
ant. 

"  Well,  at  last  I've  got  discipline."  One  of  the 
fifth  grade  teachers  was  talking.  "  I've  got  that 
class  of  mine  to  understand  what  orders  mean.  This 
morning  the  clerk  came  in  to  ask  about  the  transfers 
of  some  of  the  children  and  said, '  Those  living  south 
of  the  park  raise  hands ! '  I  counted  them.  Then  I 
talked  to  the  clerk  about  William's  absence.  She 
was  in  my  room  at  least  seven  minutes.  When  she 
left  I  turned  to  the  class  and  there  were  those  boys 
still  holding  their  hands  up  —  you  know  the  way  I 


In  the  School  41 

have  them  do  it,  elbow  bent  and  hand  close  to  the 
shoulder.  I  said,  '  Hands  down  '  just  as  if  I  hadn't 
forgotten  them  and  went  ahead.  But  I  certainly 
was  pleased.  That's  what  I  call  discipline." 

Discipline  indeed! 

Although  the  emphasis  of  the  discipline  was  being 
put  largely  on  the  individual  as  against  the  group, 
what  each  child  owed  to  the  class,  what  each  child 
owed  to  the  school,  much  of  it  was  still  a  discipline 
forced  by  the  conditions  of  the  school.  The  rod 
idea  was  at  work.  Books,  benches,  crowded  rooms, 
sitting  still,  listening;  talking  only  when  called  upon 
to  recite,  teaching  where  the  teacher  did  the  think- 
ing; these  conditions  have  meant  and  always  will 
mean  an  imposed  discipline,  an  imposed  routine, 
whereas  real  discipline  is  a  personal  thing,  a  part  of 
the  understanding  soul.  To  replace  discipline  of 
teacher-responsibility  by  the  discipline  of  child-re- 
sponsibility is  a  long,  slow  process. 

"  My  school  "  had  only  begun. 

Ill 

It  was  late  one  afternoon  and  I  walked  from  room 
to  room  through  the  big  silent  school  building.  This 
was  a  habit  of  mine.  I  was  thinking  over  the  events 
of  the  day  and  wondering  whether  I  could  ever  make 
the  school  move,  really  move.  An  empty  school 


4*       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

building  and  a  tired  mind!  No  wonder  I  felt  de- 
pressed. 

In  one  of  the  classrooms  I  saw  a  teacher  still  at 
work.  She  was  huddled  over  her  desk,  her  elbows 
resting  on  either  side  of  a  pile  of  work,  her  chin  in 
her  hands,  weariness  and  depression  in  every  line  of 
her  body. 

She  looked  up  at  the  sound  of  my  step  and  said  in 
answer  to  my  quizzical  smile,  "  I'm  going  over  the 
work  that  has  been  returned  from  the  office." 

"  Let's  look  at  it,"  I  said.  "  It  must  be  very  im- 
portant to  keep  you  like  this." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  must  fix  it  first." 

"  Fix  it?  Why  you're  through  with  it,  aren't 
you?  The  work's  been  done,  examined,  and  re- 
turned and  that's  the  end  of  it.  What  more  can  you 
do  with  it?  You  received  some  criticism  upon  it,  I 
suppose?  " 

"  That's  just  it.     That's  why  I  must  fix  it." 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  I  persisted. 

Reluctantly  she  pushed  the  pile  of  compositions 
toward  me. 

On  the  inner  top  sheet,  in  the  assistant's  neat  pen- 
manship the  criticism  was  inscribed: 

I.     No.  of  Specimens 48 

Attendance 49 

Why  is  one  missing? 


In  the  School  43 

2.  3  blotted  papers.     Never  accept  a  blotted  paper. 

It  shows  bad  discipline. 

3.  Many  of  the  e's  in  this  set  are  closed.     Drill  on 

this  point. 

4.  56  mis-spelled  words.     Drill  on  these. 

5.  Seven  children  have  too  many  paragraphs.     Only 

three  paragraphs  in  this  grade. 

6.  Be  more  particular  about  margins.     One  inch  in 

for  paragraphs,  one-half  inch  for  sentences. 
"  Trifles  make  perfection  and  perfection  is  no  trifle." 
Do  this  set  over. 

I  looked  up  and  grinned.  A  bit  relieved  the 
teacher  pushed  another  pile  of  papers  toward  me. 

"  That's  my  map.  It's  Manhattan  and  I  did 
work  hard  on  it." 

Carefully  ruled  along  the  sides  of  each  white  sheet 
of  drawing  paper  was  a  red  ink  border.  Neatly  set 
within  this  frame  was  a  map  of  the  borough.  In  the 
lower  right  hand  corner  was  a  little  compass  sign  to 
indicate  the  directions.  All  was  very,  very  neat,  and 
very,  very  dead.  On  the  top  sheet  in  the  neat  pen- 
manship was  written,  "  This  is  excellent  work.  A 
great  improvement  over  last  month's  set." 

Upon  close  examination  the  compositions  were  all 
alike.  They  were  written  on  the  same  topic.  They 
had  the  same  number  of  paragraphs.  They  had  the 
same  sentences.  It  was  a  story  on  plants;  plants 
generally,  roots,  stem,  leaves,  as  close  an  imitation 
of  a  scientific  deduction  on  the  abstract  life  of  plants 


44       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

as  it  was  possible  for  the  teacher  to  make  it.  Why 
had  they  been  written  at  all?  There  they  were,  as 
perfect  as  could  be.  Not  one  of  them  had  the  child's 
language  or  the  child's  point  of  view.  Composition 
is  thought  and  then  expression.  Here  there  was  no 
thinking,  no  child  thinking,  just  a  striving  for  perfect 
forms.  There  was  neither  thought  nor  language. 

I  told  the  teacher  to  put  the  papers  away,  all  of 
them,  and  go  home.  She  needed  the  air  and  the  sun- 
shine and  what  she  was  doing  was  of  little  value  to 
the  children. 

I  determined  to  look  more  carefully  at  this  finished 
work  of  the  classroom. 

Some  of  it  I  found  good.  Here  and  there  were 
signs  of  life,  but  most  of  it  was  deadly  perfect.  I 
remember  one  set  of  drawings  in  particular,  a  set  of 
cylinders.  Each  drawing  was  exactly  like  the  other 
and  what  attracted  my  attention  most,  was  the  fact 
that  they  were  placed  in  exactly  the  same  place  on 
each  paper.  A  faint  memory  of  the  Dictionary 
stirred  within  me  and  I  chuckled  to  myself. 

I  sent  for  the  teacher.  She  was  a  young  teacher 
in  her  first  year  of  service.  There  were  about  thirty 
such  in  the  school  and  upon  them  I  had  set  my  hope 
for  the  school's  growth. 

'*  These  are  fine  drawings,"  I  said,  **  very  neat 
and  carefully  drawn." 

She  looked  pleased. 


In  the  School  45 

"  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  how  you  did  them." 

"  Why,  the  children  did  them." 

"  Of  course,  I  just  wanted  to  know  how  you  man- 
aged to  get  the  children  to  get  them  all  the  same  size 
and  placed  so  well  on  the  paper." 

"  Oh,  yes.  You  know  first  they  made  them  all 
ways.  Some  very  long  and  thin  and  some  short  and 
fat  and  the  sides  all  crooked.  And  they  were  not  in 
the  middle  of  the  paper;  just  a  little  up  or  down  or 
sideways,  you  know?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  agreed.     "  I  know." 

"  Well,  the  drawing  supervisor  told  me  they  must 
all  be  the  same  size  and  placed  correctly  on  the  paper 
so  I  thought  out  a  way. 

"  I  took  a  big  needle  and  pricked  little  holes  in  the 
places  where  the  four  corners  of  the  cylinder  were  to 
be  and  there  you  are.  The  rest  was  easy." 

"  Anyway,"  I  said  to  myself  as  she  left  me,  "  she 
told  me." 

It  was  difficult  to  get  teachers  away  from  subject 
matter,  from  machinery,  and  toward  children.  How 
could  it  be  otherwise?  Had  not  the  teachers  been 
trained  to  think  arithmetic  per  cents.,  language  per 
cents.,  spelling  per  cents.,  geography  per  cents.? 
Was  not  their  world  a  word-world  and  their  thinking 
a  word-thinking? 

I  tried  to  improve  the  teaching  by  getting  away 


46       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

from  the  accepted  treatment  of  the  three  R's. 
These  subjects  were  so  thoroughly  formalised  and 
logically  arranged  that  no  new  viewpoint  could  be 
carried  over  through  them. 

I  began  by  emphasising  subjects  that  held  emo- 
tional values,  drawing,  composition,  music,  nature, 
literature.  I  wanted  drawing  that  expressed  the 
child  and  not  drawing  that  was  made  to  order.  I 
wanted  ideas  expressed  in  colour,  movement,  fun  and 
not  lines,  ideas  and  not  perfect  papers,  every  one 
alike.  I  wanted  composition  that  expressed  the 
child  and  was  not  made  to  order;  two  sentences  for 
the  third  grade,  two  paragraphs  for  the  fourth 
grade,  simple  sentences  in  the  fifth  grade,  complex 
sentences  in  the  sixth  grade  and  so  on  indefinitely.  I 
wanted  nature  that  would  make  the  child's  heart 
warm  with  sympathy,  that  would  make  the  child  dig 
and  plant  and  be  glad  of  the  earth  smells,  that  would 
make  him  talk  to  the  dumb  beasts  and  yearn  to  care 
for  them,  that  would  make  him  laugh  to  feel  the 
snow  and  the  rain  and  the  wind  beating  on  his  face. 

The  feeling  for  the  things  that  I  wanted  was 
rather  more  definite  than  the  knowledge  of  how  to  at- 
tain the  desired  results.  I  planned,  however,  as  best 
I  knew  how.  I  watched  my  opportunities.  I  went 
into  the  classrooms  and  helped  the  teachers  with 
their  work  and  the  teachers,  it  seemed  to  me,  re- 
sponded. They  smiled.  They  were  interested. 


In  the  School  47 

They  showed  confidence  in  the  newer  point  of 
view. 

"  We  are  getting  on,"  I  thought. 

Then  something  happened.  One  of  the  assistants 
came  to  me  and  said,  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you."  Her 
tone  signified  the  unusual  and  I  listened  intently. 

"  I  must  leave  this  school.  You  and  I  do  not 
agree.  You  are  putting  the  whole  weight  of  the 
school  on  the  non-essentials.  The  teachers  are  put- 
ting all  their  energy  on  music,  nature,  composition 
and  drawing.  I  can't  get  the  arithmetic  up  to  the 
standard  in  the  time  that's  left." 

"  Aren't  the  teachers  giving  the  allotted  time  to 
the  arithmetic?  " 

*  Yes,  but  they  give  just  that  and  no  more.  I 
mean  that  they  do  not  bring  the  pressure  to  bear  on 
it  that  they  did  and  the  work  is  falling  off.  It's 
according  to  your  direction  and  as  you  and  I  cannot 
agree  on  that  point  I  am  going  to  another  school." 

"  I'm  not  getting  on,"  said  another  teacher.  "  I 
don't  know  what  to  do.  The  Superintendent  is  com- 
ing and  I'm  afraid  we  won't  be  ready,  especially  in 
Nature  Study.  You  tell  us  to  work  for  the  chil- 
dren and  forget  ourselves  but  we  can't  forget  the 
Superintendent.  I  can't  get  the  facts  he  wants  with- 
out drill  and  I  can't  drill  and  teach  the  way  you 
say." 

"  But  I  believe  you  can  teach,  really  teach  the  child 


48       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

to  think  and  enjoy  the  work,  and  at  the  same  time 
give  the  examiner  the  kind  of  work  he  wants,"  I 
said. 

4  Will  you  come  and  hear  my  nature  lesson  on  the 
Robin?" 

11  Gladly,"  I  said. 

"  I  give  it  first  thing  in  the  morning,"  she  told  me. 

I  was  on  hand  promptly.  There  was  no  sign  of 
anything  in  the  room  that  looked  like  a  robin  unless  it 
was  the  plump  little  lad  in  the  first  seat  who  kept 
looking  up  eagerly,  open  mouthed,  into  the  teacher's 
face,  ready  to  catch  each  word. 

"  Now,  children,  we  are  going  to  talk  about  a  bird. 
One  you  all  like  to  hear  about.  He's  a  cheerful  little 
fellow  with  a  brown  coat  and  a  red  breast,  and  two 
bright  eyes,  and  he  sings,  cheerily,  cheerily !  What's 
his  name?  " 

Silence. 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  not  thinking  hard,  children. 
Think  hard.  What's  his  name?  He  has  a  brown 
coat,  a  red  vest,  two  bright  eyes  and  he  sings  cheerily, 
cheerily  —  What  do  you  call  him?  " 

Then  the  boy  in  the  first  seat  spoke  up. 

"  Tony,"  he  said. 

Tony  was  an  Italian  sweeper,  who  unfortunately 
for  the  smooth  progress  of  the  lesson  answered  the 
description  to  a  nicety. 

The  teacher  turned  to  me,  her  face  flushed  and 


In  the  School  49 

her  eyes  shining.  "  There,  you  see  —  I  tried  to 
make  the  lesson  interesting  and  that's  what  happens. 
I  can't  do  it  your  way." 

"  But  maybe  that  isn't  my  way." 

"  Why,  that's  what  you  told  me  to  do.  I'm  sure 
I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"If  you'll  come  to  me  during  the  day,  I'll  try  to 
tell  you." 

When  she  came,  I  said,  "  There  are  robins  in  the 
park  just  across  the  street?  " 

11  Yes,  lots  of  them." 

"  Suppose  you  meet  the  class  under  the  big  Oak 
Tree  in  the  morning  and  look  for  robins.  Watch 
them  until  you  and  the  children  know  as  much  about 
them  as  one  can  learn  by  looking  —  size,  colour,  bill, 
food,  the  funny  little  tripping  walk,  the  cock  of  the 
eye  and  the  turn  of  the  head;  the  nest  and  the  babies 
you'll  have  to  get  from  pictures,  but  having  real 
birds  in  your  mind,  that  will  come  easy.  Then  talk 
over  what  you've  seen  and  learned.  Let  everybody 
say  his  say  sometime  or  other.  Tell  them  a  story, 
have  them  sing  a  song  about  Robin  Red  Breast. 

"  Then  when  you  have  all  the  facts  about  him 
select  those  that  are  most  worth  while,  and  present 
them  as  the  Robin  story.  You'll  find  you'll  need 
very  little  drill." 

Doubtfully  she  shook  her  head. 

As  she  started  to  walk  out  of  the  room  I  could 


50       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

see  the  shadow  of  the  coming  examination  still  in 
her  countenance. 

"  And  by  the  way  —  you  know  it's  Tony  that 
wears  the  vest  —  not  Robin  Redbreast.  Don't 
worry.  Outline  the  lesson  again  and  then  come  back 
and  let  me  go  over  it  with  you." 


IV 

The  average  parent  thinks  of  education  largely 
in  terms  of  books.  The  poorer  the  people  are  the 
more  apt  they  are  to  over-value  the  traditional  work 
of  the  school.  The  school  is  the  place  to  learn  from 
books  and  the  child  must  not  waste  time  doing  any- 
thing else.  Time  spent  in  play  is  waste.  Time 
spent  on  music,  cooking,  stories,  dramatics,  dancing, 
wood,  clay,  is  waste.  These  are  the  fads  and  frills 
and  while  desirable  are  altogether  unnecessary. 
What  the  child  needs  is  to  get  on  in  the  world,  to 
get  a  job  that  gets  him  away  from  hard  work.  To 
do  that  the  child  must  know  how  to  read,  to  write, 
to  spell,  to  count.  He  need  not  know  anything  about 
music,  hammers,  needles,  food. 

Parents  have  been  trained  as  have  the  teachers, 
to  think  of  school  as  a  place  where  the  children  are 
made  to  obey,  to  memorise,  made  to  repeat  lessons. 

I  felt  that  we  had  to  win  the  parents  as  well  as 


In  the  School  51 

the  teachers  if  the  changes  we  were  making,  our  em- 
phasis on  the  "  fads  and  frills  "  of  education,  were 
to  be  accepted  in  the  homes. 

I  should  have  known  that  the  people  believed  in 
the  sufficiency  of  the  three  R's.  They  had  not  re- 
alised that  the  children  of  the  city  were  losing  all 
chance  of  first  hand  experience  with  life.  They  had 
not  realised  that  the  schools  must  hasten  to  furnish 
the  opportunity  for  them  on  the  playground  and 
in  the  shops.  Only  when  there  was  a  better  public 
conception  of  what  the  schools  should  do  would 
school  life  really  change. 

When  I  cut  down  home  study  so  as  to  give  the 
child  some  relief  from  the  pressure  of  the  curriculum 
and  thus  allow  them  more  time  to  grow,  Sam's 
mother  came  to  me,  wrath  in  her  eyes. 

"  Good  morning.     I've  just  run  in  for  a  minute 

this  morning  to  ask  how  it  is  that  Sam  has  no  home 

work  to  speak  of.     Just  a  few  examples  and  five 

words  and  a  little  reading.     Sometimes  he  has  a 

couple  of  sentences.     He  does  them  in  no  time. 

Now  in  the  last  school  he  was  in  he  used  to  have 

>>    work  enough  to  keep  him  a  couple  of  hours.     He'd 

come  in  from  school,  do  his  errands,  wash  up  for 

supper.     After  supper  he'd  work  until  it  was  time 

0  to  go  to  bed." 

But  I  protested,  "  We  think  Sam  is  doing  very 


L-lBRARV 

SfAU  N'JftMAL  SCHOOL 

MANUAL  ARTS  AND  HOME  6CONOK.CS 

SANTA  BARBARA,  CALIFORNIA 


52       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

well.  There  is  no  need  for  his  working  two  hours 
at  home.  If  he  works  to  his  full  capacity  for  five 
hours  a  day,  that  is  enough  for  a  little  fellow  ten 
years  old.  Don't  you  think  so?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  He  doesn't  have  enough 
to  do  to  keep  him  quiet.  Hefbothers  the  family  and 
we  don't  like  it  at  all.  Last  night  he  bothered  me 
until  I  had  to  get  up  and  get  him  stuff  to  make  an 
air  thing.  I  don't  know  what  it  is  —  something  he 
wants  to  make  fly.  Now  he'd  be  better  off  doing 
some  long  division  examples,  and  I  think  the  teacher 
ought  to  have  more  to  do  than  tell  him  stories  about 
flying  machines  anyway.  He  can  learn  that  when 
he's  older  if  he  wants  to." 

"  I'm  sorry  you  feel  that  way  about  it.  The  child 
has  all  the  book  study  he  needs,  I  think,  and  if  any- 
thing, too  much  homework.  I  think  Sam  needs  sun- 
shine and  clean  sports  and  a  chance  in  the  open.  He 
is  going  to  fly  kites  to  get  ready  for  the  kite  flying 
contest  to  be  held  in  the  park  next  month." 

"  Then  I  want  you  to  give  me  a  transfer,"  she 
answered  with  decision.  "  My  boy  needs  an  educa- 
tion. He  can't  afford  to  waste  time  like  a  rich  man's 
son.  I'll  put  him  in  another  school  where  he  can 
learn  something." 

And  nothing  I  could  say  would  change  her  belief. 
Aerial  navigation  was  too  far  from  the  three  R's  for 
Sam.  He  must  stay  nearer  the  earth. 


In  the  School  53 

Even  the  babies  in  the  first  grade,  the  infant  class, 
did  not  escape. 

"  Don't  you  find  Aaron  ahead  of  his  class?  "  an 
aggressive  mother  asked  me. 

"  I  find  him  a  very  bright  little  boy." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  you  would.  I  taught  him  myself. 
He  can  read  the  whole  of  4  The  Red  Hen  '  and  count 
to  one  hundred  without  a  mistake.  When  are  you 
going  to  promote  him?" 

I  temporised.  "  I  rather  think  Aaron  can  go 
ahead  with  his  class  next  January."  (It  was  Sep- 
tember.) "  Yes,  if  he  grows  as  he  promises  to,  he 
will  be  ready  for  promotion  with  his  class." 

"  But  he  can  read  the  whole  of  *  The  Red  — '  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,  but,  you  see,  the  school  stands  for 
more  than  just  the  few  intellectual  facts  that  the 
curriculum  imposes  upon  your  child.  He  needs  time 
to  live,  to  grow,  to  be  a  child  with  other  children. 
He  needs  time  to  sense  the  curriculum  as  well  as 
memorise  it.  That  can  only  be  done  by  living  it 
with  his  teacher  and  his  classmates.  If  to  teach  the 
few  facts  of  the  curriculum  were  all  we  were  here 
for,  the  school  would  better  be  closed." 

By  this  time  the  mother  began  to  feel  maybe  she 
hadn't  it  right,  after  all,  and  went  away  shaking  her 
head  and  sighing. 

"  School  was  different  in  my  time.  We  learned. 
We  got  *  what  for  '  if  we  didn't." 


54       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

4  This  is  the  principal?"  puffed  a  little  ball  of 
a  man  as  he  rolled  into  the  office.  "  I  came  to  see 
about  my  boy's,  Fred's  teacher.  Maybe  you  think 
she  is  a  good  teacher.  I  don't  know  it.  She  keeps 
my  boy  in.  She  tells  him  stories.  Fred  comes 
home.  He  walks  round  and  round  the  rooms  and 
says  words  like  the  actors.  Tell  her  to  please  stop 
—  I  don't  like  it.  I  don't  like  it." 

"Does  Fred  like  it?  "I  asked. 

"  He  likes  ?  "  and  there  was  fire  in  his  eyes.  '*  Yes, 
he  likes  it  like  anything.  That  he  likes  and  noth- 
ing else.  Why,  if  she  wants  to  teach  Fred  extra, 
don't  she  give  him  more  arithmetic.  That  is  good 
for  Fred  when  he  grows  up.  He  goes  then  to  busi- 
ness and  he  knows  nothing.  Whose  fault?  Fred 
is  not  good  in  his  lessons.  My  brother's  son  is  two 
classes  ahead  and  he  is  the  same  age.  Fred  should 
study  hard.  He  should  not  waste  his  brain  on  hum- 
bug. Tell  her  to  please  stop.  Fred  needs  his 
senses  for  reading  and  writing." 

44  Would  you  like  to  see  the  teacher?  She  might 
explain,"  I  suggested. 

44  Yes,  I  will  see  her.  She  must  not  tell  stories. 
She  must  not  waste  time.  Fred  will  be  big  soon, 
very  soon." 

The  teacher  came. 

'You  Fred's  teacher?"  he  said  as  soon  as  he 
saw  her.  4<  Well,  you  must  not  tell  stories,  I  don't 


In  the  School  55 

like  it.  I  want  an  education  for  my  boy,  not  foolish- 
ness. Stories  are  humbug." 

"  But  we  have  these  stories  after  school  hours 
when  all  the  required  work  is  done,"  pleaded  the 
teacher. 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  give  him  some  more  examples  if 
you  want  to  help  him  along  —  but  please,  my  dear 
young  lady,  don't  tell  stories.  I  don't  like  it." 

Then  the  grandmother  of  Katherine  came  in,  a 
hearty,  cheery,  plump-cheeked,  steel  bowed  spec- 
tacled grandmother,  who  seated  herself  with  firm- 
ness and  began  without  preface : 

"  Why  doesn't  your  teacher  teach  the  children  to 
spell?" 

Her  eyes  were  challenging  —  the  clear,  clipped 
tones  hinted,  "  No  nonsense  now,  I'm  here  to  be 
shown." 

"  What  class  is  Katherine  in?  " 

"  First  grade,  room  7." 

"  Oh,  we  do  not  teach  spelling  in  i  A." 

"  And  well  I  know  you  don't.  I'm  glad  you're 
truthful.  Why  don't  you?  Here  Katherine  can 
read  the  whole  of  *  The  Red  Hen  ' .  and  not  a  word 
can  the  poor  child  spell,  much  less  know  a  letter. 
Every  night  I'm  trying  to  pound  it  into  her,  and 
we're  as  far  from  it  now  as  when  we  began.  What's 
wrong,  anyway?  " 


56       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

1  You  see,"  I  tried  to  explain,  "  we  don't  teach 
reading  just  that  way.  Suppose  you  spend  an  hour 
in  the  classroom  and  sec  how  we  do  it?  " 

u  Surely,  surely,  I  want  you  to  show  me." 

At  the  end  of  the  period,  grandmother  came  back. 

"  Well,  that's  a  fine  young  woman, —  and  healthy, 
I'll  say  that  for  her.  And  the  children  do  read  well. 
But  /  learned  to  spell  when  I  was  six,  and  it  never 
hurt  me." 

**  Or  helped  you,"  I  thought,  but  silence  was  better 
than  speech  this  time,  and  grandmother  went  home 
silenced  but  not  convinced. 

The  next  complaint  came  from  an  entirely  differ- 
ent source.  This  time  it  was  Mary  Ann's  mother 
who  spoke.  Mary  Ann  was  in  the  "  Defectives' 
Class  "  and  would  stay  in  that  class  outside  and  in- 
side school  until  the  earth  closed  over  her. 

Mary  Ann's  mother  was  a  picturesque  figure  in 
her  sport  skirt,  an  antiquated  basque  with  a  brave 
row  of  steel  buttons  down  the  front,  a  pert  sailor 
hat  sailing  under  an  aggressive  quill.  In  her  ear- 
nestness she  went  directly  to  the  teacher. 

'  Teacher  dear,  Mary  Ann's  doing  foine,  foine. 
She  hasn't  tore  the  baby  since  I  don't  know  whin, 
and  she's  getting  that  civil  you  wouldn't  believe  it. 
Hardly  a  bad  word  out  of  her  mouth  now,  and  she 
goes  to  Sunday  School  with  Bettie.  I'm  proud  and 


In  the  School  57 

thankful  to  ye.  But  that's  not  what  I  came  to  ask 
ye.  Just  drop  them  bastits  you're  having  her  mak- 
in\  and  them  drills  she  fiddles  her  time  away  in  and 
teach  her  to  read.  Teach  her  to  read  so  she  can 
learn  her  catechism  and  save  her  immortal  soul  and 
then  I  don't  care.  But  in  God's  name,  teach  her  to 
read." 

And  Mary  Ann's  mother  broke  down  and  wept. 

There  you  are.  From  the  highest  to  lowest,  the 
book  and  the  book  knowledge  shall  save  you.  It 
shall  even  save  your  soul. 

Many  parents  believe  that  this  is  education.  They 
covet  knowledge,  book  knowledge  for  their  children. 
Rich  and  poor  alike  want  their  children  done  up  in 
little  packages,  ready  to  show,  ready  to  boast  of. 
They  fear  freedom,  they  fear  to  let  the  child  grow 
by  himself.  Because  the  parents  want  this  sort  of 
thing,  the  school  is  built  to  suit  —  a  book  school  — 
one  room  like  another,  one  seat  like  another,  each 
child  like  his  neighbour. 


CHAPTER  III 

OUTSIDE   THE   SCHOOL 


AT  the  end  of  the  first  term  the  school  was  pro- 
moted. A  mass  of  children  went  from  our  sixth 
year  grade  to  the  seventh  grade  of  a  neighbouring 
school.  A  new  group  from  the  fifth  grade  of  our 
neighbour's  school  was  promoted  to  our  sixth  grade. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  term  the  school  was  pro- 
moted again.  We  lost  the  older  children  upon 
whom  the  responsibility  for  school  spirit  depended 
and  we  got  the  younger  children  in  exchange.  The 
two  groups  crossed  and  re-crossed  on  their  way  to 
and  from  the  two  schools. 

What  could  we  do  with  a  shifting  school  popula- 
tion? 

A  mother  came  into  the  school  one  morning.  She 
wanted  "  to  see  the  principal."  I  was  then  on  my 
rounds  of  the  building.  She  waited  because  she 
wanted  "  to  see  the  principal  on  very  important  busi- 
ness." When  I  came  she  began.  It  was  the  con- 
crete presentation  of  the  protest  that  the  teachers 
and  I  had  been  feeling. 

58 


Outside  the  School  59 

"  I'm  sick  of  the  name  of  school.  Just  see  this 
for  yourself.  Is  it  reasonable?  Is  it  just?  And 
to  think  that  I  should  live  to  say  such  a  thing 
with  two  of  my  boys  graduates  of  public  school  and 
one  now  in  high  school.  But  I  must  say  it,  I've  stood 
it  long  enough.  Something  has  got  to  be  done  or  I 
shall  go  crazy. 

"  It's  this  way.  I  ask  you  to  do  something  for 
me.  Thomas  goes  to  the  Jefferson  Avenue  School. 
He  is  in  8A.  Mary  goes  to  the  First  Avenue 
School  and  John,  the  smallest,  comes  here. 

"  When  they  come  home  there  is  a  fight.  Each 
one  cheers  for  his  own.  Last  night  Mary  came 
home  with  her  school  colours  and  Thomas  said  they 
were  no  good.  Then  there  was  talking  and  crying 
and  Mary  lost  her  temper  and  she  had  to  be  put  to 
bed.  The  father  blames  me.  It's  the  same  with  all 
the  mothers  on  the  block.  With  the  children  here 
and  there  we  don't  know  what  to  do." 

Here  she  stopped  and  felt  nervously  about  for 
her  handkerchief. 

I  recalled  the  visits  of  the  other  parents  who  had 
come  objecting  to  this  same  condition. 

"  Now  I  want  them  to  go  altogether,"  she  re- 
sumed. "  One  school  is  as  good  as  another,  but 
three  is  too  many.  The  big  child  could  keep  an  eye 
on  the  little  one  and  help  her  across  the  car  tracks. 
The  little  one  is  a  bit  slow  in  lessons  and  if  the  big 


60       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

boy  tries  to  help  him  he  says,  *  We  don't  do  it  that 
way  in  our  school,'  and  then  there  is  more  fighting. 
If  they  went  to  the  same  school  they  could  help  each 
other. 

11  Now  I  want  you  to  stop  this  foolishness  and  put 
them  all  in  the  same  school.  What  kind  of  a  family 
will  this  be,  I'm  asking  you?  And  that's  not  all. 
They  go  at  different  times, —  I'm  getting  meals  all 
day  long.  No  use  going  to  sec  teachers.  It's  a 
day's  trip.  Please  transfer  them  to  one  school." 

Here  the  mother  collapsed.  This  was  the  longest 
speech  she  had  ever  made. 

She  was  right.  The  time  had  come  to  put  a  stop 
to  this  "  foolishness." 

"  Please  transfer  these  children  to  the  same 
school "  and  "  Keep  them  there  I  "  was  a  good 
slogan.  If  that  could  be  done  we  would  save  the 
changes  of  both  children  and  teachers. 

Surely  there  must  be  some  mistake.  It  was  never 
intended  that  the  smallest  children  should  be  shifted 
about  in  this  way.  It  was  never  intended  that  this 
school  should  be  the  helpless  thing  that  it  was. 

I  said  to  those  whom  I  could  get  to  listen,  "  Unity 
and  continuity  are  the  two  potent  elements  in  the  life 
of  the  school.  The  tendency  to  break  up  the  school 
is  not  wholesome.  I  believe  the  full  graded  school 
where  the  school  life  of  the  child  is  continuous  is  the 
best  school  for  children.  I  believe  the  children  stay 


Outside  the  School  61 

longer  in  such  a  school  and  do  the  work  faster  and 
more  thoroughly. 

"  Do  you  know,"  I  went  on,  "  that  this  school  has 
at  present  six  different  distinct,  district  lines?  Is 
there  any  good  reason  why  this  school  should  not  re- 
tain its  children  through  all  its  grades  and  pre- 
vent the  waste  that  comes  through  needless  trans- 
fers?" 

The  kindly  old  janitor  of  the  school  advised  me 
when  he  saw  what  I  was  about. 

"  Don't  stir  them  up,"  he  said;  "  don't  stir  them 
up.  I  have  been  in  this  business  for  thirty  years  and 
I  have  found  stirring  them  up  won't  do.  If  they 
say  it  is  raining,  put  up  your  umbrella,  but  don't  stir 
them  up." 

I  did  not  think  the  janitor  was  right.  When  I 
failed  to  get  my  point  over  I  said,  "  They  do  not 
understand." 

When  parents  came  to  me  with  complaints,  I 
sent  them  on  to  the  school  authorities.  "  The  peo- 
ple will  explain  and  the  explanation  will  help,"  I 
thought.  But  the  authorities  resented  being  stirred 
up  and  they  did  nothing. 

A  member  of  the  local  board  came  to  see  me. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  anyway?"  he  said 
rather  sharply.  "  You're  not  playing  the  game. 
You  knew  this  was  a  six  year  school  when  you  came 
to  it.  Then  as  soon  as  you  get  here  you  begin  stir- 


62       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

ring  up  trouble.  You're  only  a  beginner,  you'll  get 
your  full  school  when  your  turn  comes.  If  you 
can't  wait,  get  a  transfer." 

'  You   don't  understand,"   I   said,   taken   aback. 
'  It's  for  the  children  I'm  asking  this,  not  for  my- 
self.    This  organisation  is  bad  for  them.     Adjust  it 
and  I'll  take  any  school  you  like." 

'*  That's  all  in  your  eye.     I  know  better,"  he  said. 

The  protest  was  useless.  I  felt  that  school  peo- 
ple were  not  going  to  help  me,  cither  by  convincing 
me  that  I  was  wrong  or  by  active  assistance  when  I 
was  right.  Was  I  facing  the  same  conditions  as  a 
principal  that  I  had  faced  as  a  teacher?  "  Do  what 
you  are  told  to  do.  Do  what  the  rest  are  doing." 

Strangest  of  all  was  the  fact  that  they  were  thor- 
oughly honest  in  their  position.  It  was  the  point 
of  view.  They  saw  a  school  for  administration.  I 
saw  a  school  for  the  "  All  Around  "  development  of 
children. 

I  wanted  opportunity  for  the  masses,  the  best 
schools  for  the  crowds,  the  best  teachers  for  the 
heaviest  load.  I  thought  in  terms  of  service,  they 
in  terms  of  tradition. 

The  changes  that  had  been  made  in  the  school 
organisation  had  been  made  to  benefit  the  older  chil- 
dren. The  best  teachers,  the  best  buildings,  the 
smallest  classes,  the  finest  equipment  were  provided 
for  the  few  at  the  top.  There  was  no  top  to  my 


Outside  the  School  63 

school,  and  there  were  no  facilities  of  equipment,  no 
shops,  no  gymnasium,  no  playground  —  only  class- 
rooms. It  did  not  matter  whether  our  children 
stayed  in  our  school  or  were  transferred  out  of  it. 
It  did  not  matter  much  what  happened  to  the  young- 
est children.  The  tradition  in  school  management 
was  and  still  is  that  the  older  children  are  the  ones 
most  worth  while;  that  the  teachers  of  these  older 
children  are  the  superior  teachers;  that  the  principal 
of  a  full  graded  school  has  a  higher  standing  than 
one  of  a  six  year  school;  that  the  president  of  a  col- 
lege is  superior  to  the  principal  of  a  high  school. 

Soon  the  teachers  who  sought  promotion  went 
into  the  high  school  or  the  full  graded  school,  be- 
cause these  schools  offered  higher  salaries  and  larger 
opportunities  for  professional  growth. 

What  chance  then  had  this  school  of  becoming  a 
real  school?  What  chance  had  this  school  for  con- 
tinuity of  life?  What  influence  could  its  training 
show  upon  the  conduct  of  children? 

What  was  I  to  do? 

II 

The  daily  disciplinary  records  had  begun  to  show 
up  the  few  steady  offenders.  The  same  names  ap- 
peared with  almost  the  same  complaint. 

The  worst  among  them  was  the  leader  with  his 


64       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

gang.  I  found  they  had  headquarters  in  a  forsaken 
mansion.  They  had  stripped  it  of  any  saleable  fix- 
tures and  used  the  money  for  cigarettes,  candy,  soda, 
carfare  and  shows. 

Sometimes  they  had  a  fight  with  some  of  the  other 
boys  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  pitched  battles 
took  place  in  the  vacant  lots  and  frequently  in  the 
park.  Then  there  would  be  a  rush  of  protesting 
parents  to  the  school  and  the  station  house.  The 
police  would  charge  down  upon  the  contending 
armies  and  they  would  disappear  across  the  lots  into 
cellars  and  over  roofs. 

What  was  school  to  them,  when,  armed  with 
stones  and  carrying  shields  made  of  pot  covers  or 
old  wash  boilers  pounded  flat,  they  sallied  forth  to 
attack  a  neighbouring  gang! 

The  leader  had  caught  my  notice  by  having  had 
numerous  charges  of  fighting  made  against  him.  He 
had  carried  his  street  battles  into  the  school  and  the 
teacher  and  the  class  had  to  suffer  the  consequent 
annoyance  and  inconvenience. 

The  freight  yard  with  its  busy  traffic  had  the 
greatest  attraction  for  him.  Something  was  going 
on  there  all  the  time.  The  cars  clanging,  grinding, 
bumping  1  The  brakemen  running  along  the  top  of 
the  cars,  shouting  and  waving  their  arms!  The 
trucks,  the  horses,  the  thrill  of  an  accident,  and  the 
crowd  that  gathered  about  the  swift  rushing  ambu- 


Outside  the  School  65 

lance  —  here  was  life.  Expeditions,  thefts,  stolen 
rides,  broken  limbs,  what  chances  for  adventure ! 

One  night  there  was  nothing  to  do, —  no  fruit 
stand  to  turn  over,  no  pedlar  to  bait,  so  he  led  his 
friends  to  the  freight  yard.  A  mass  of  bulging  bags 
containing  malt  was  discovered.  These  were  cut 
and  some  of  the  malt  carried  away  to  a  cellar 
"  Den." 

The  police  traced  the  miscreants  to  a  fifth  year 
class.  The  officer  who  came  took  the  ring  leader 
and  started  off.  Before  they  had  gone  ten  feet  there 
was  a  flash  of  grey,  and  the  boy  flew  down  the  hall 
scarcely  making  a  sound  and  a  hurtling  mass  of  blue 
pounded -after  him.  The  prisoner  was  gone. 

A  tearful  youngster  appealed  to  me,  "  Will  you 
please  make  the  Flannigans  let  us  alone?  "  he  wailed. 

"  Who  are  the  Flannigans?  "  I  asked. 
'  They  are  a  gang  of  Irishers  that  fight  us. 
Every  day  they  fight  us.  Last  night  they  lassooed 
my  brother  and  took  him  to  their  den  and  my  father 
and  the  police  had  to  get  him  out.  My  father  says 
you  should  get  the  leader.  His  name  is  Flannigan. 
That  ain't  his  real  name  either.  It's  Arente.  He 
is  in  2  A." 

"  In  grade  2  A  and  you  are  in  6  B?  " 
4  Yes,  sir.     He  is  big  and  his  gang  is  bigger. 
They  even  work.     We  haven't  any  show  with  them." 


66       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

44  I'll  have  to  see  about  them,"  I  comforted  him. 
44  It's  too  bad." 

During  the  day  this  lad's  mother  came  in  to  see 
me.  "  I  thought  you  were  going  to  sec  about  the 
Flannigans?  Issie  told  you  about  them  this  morn- 
ing," she  said. 

4  Yes,"  I  returned,  "  but  I've  been  very  busy  to- 
day and  haven't  had  a  chance  to  see  Arente  yet." 

*  Then  that's  why.  On  the  way  out  at  noon  he 
licked  Issie  for  telling  you  and  says  he'll  do  him 
something  if  he  tells  any  more." 

I  sent  for  Arente  who  promptly  dissolved  into 
tears.  That  didn't  help  any.  Tears  came  easily 
to  him.  I  sent  him  home  for  his  mother  and  asked 
Issie's  mother  to  wait.  In  a  short  time  mother  and 
son  appeared,  and  I  told  the  story. 

14  Well,"  she  said  aggressively,  44  this  happened  on 
the  street,  didn't  it?  What  have  you  got  to  do  with 
it?  I  guess  if  you  attend  to  your  job  inside  school  it 
will  give  you  enough  to  do." 

"  But,"  interrupted  the  other  mother,  44  he  licked 
my  Issie." 

44  Sure  he  did,"  responded  the  plumed  lady,  "  and 
serve  himself  well  right.  Let  Issie  fight  his  own 
battles.  I  don't  come  here  about  what  happens  my 
son.  If  he  gets  a  black  eye  that's  his  bad  luck. 
What  happens  on  the  street  is  none  of  the  school's 


Outside  the  School  67 

business.  You  needn't  send  for  me  to  settle  your 
son's  scraps,"  and  she  swept  grandly  out. 

"  No  wonder  he  licks  Issie,"  gasped  the  remaining 
visitor.  "  She's  fierce.  Try  and  do  your  best  for  my 
boy  that  he  isn't  killed." 

I  agreed  to  try  and  showed  Issie's  mother  out. 
Then  I  sat  down  to  think  it  over.  I  consulted 
Arente's  teacher  about  the  street  fights.  She 
laughed  heartily  at  me  — "  What,  a  sixth  year  boy 
complaining  about  a  second  year  boy!  He  doesn't 
belong  in  a  public  school  with  the  boys.  He  needs  a 
nurse  and  a  perambulator." 

"  But  for  some  reason  or  other,"  I  interposed, 
"  Arente  -is  backed  up  by  some  older  boys,  really 
young  men,  and  it  isn't  exactly  a  fair  fight,  you  see." 

"It  happened  on  the  street,  didn't  it?"  she  in- 
quired in  a  puzzled  tone.  "  What  have  we  to  do 
with  it?  We  can't  control  the  street  life  of  these 
children.  We  couldn't  if  we  wished  to,  and  it's 
really  none  of  our  business. 

"  I'll  speak  to  Arente  but  it  won't  do  much  good. 
If  Arente  doesn't  beat  Issie  somebody  else  will.  On 
the  street,  it's  lick  or  be  licked.  How's  the  school 
going  to  help  it?  " 

"  How  indeed,"  I  wondered.  "  It's  not  the 
school's  business.  We  stop  at  the  street  door.  It's 
not  the  home's  business.  That  stops  at  the  door. 


68       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

The  street  is  the  third  powerful  factor  in  Education 
and  we  know  nothing  about  it." 

Turning  over  the  leaves  of  my  Happenings  Book 
I  selected  the  following: 

"  Complaint  of  candy  pedlar.  Boys  pulled  his 
beard  and  took  some  candy." 

14  Mrs.  Wellon  reported  that  a  little  girl  went  into 
her  house  by  fire  escape  window  and  took  eleven  cents 
out  of  a  teacup." 

"  Janitor  of  apartment  house  says  boys  tipped  ash 
can  down  cellar  stairs." 

"  Sign  painter  —  very  angry  —  charged  boys  with 
taking  away  ladder  and  leaving  him  perched  thirty 
feet  above  sidewalk." 

"  A  letter  from  a  lady  suggesting  that  I  stand  at 
the  front  door  of  my  school  to  receive  the  children 
as  they  enter  and  praise  those  who  have  clean  faces, 
well  brushed  hair  and  boots.  She  has  noticed  chil- 
dren entering  our  school  who  were  not  well  groomed. 
There  are  thirteen  entrances  to  this  school  and  four 
thousand  children." 

"  Edison  company  requests  us  to  co-operate  in  the 
protection  of  their  light  globes." 

"  The  delicatessen  man  says  Rachel  steals  a  dill 
pickle  every  day." 

"  Received  an  official  circular  asking  our  help  in 
the  protection  of  public  property,  street,  lights, 
parks,  public  buildings,  books,  etc. 


Outside  the  School  69 

"  Mrs.  Wenc  wants  Fritz  to  come  in  the  front 
door  so  Michael  can't  punch  him." 

"  So,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  My  school  "  is  differ- 
ent? Well,  it  isn't.  It's  the  same  old  school.  The 
teachers  and  children  —  the  streets  and  the  troubles 
have  different  names  but  they're  the  same  all  over 
the  world.  Home  shuts  the  door  and  by  that  simple 
action  closes  out  the  world.  School  shuts  the  door 
and  concerns  itself  no  further.  But  the  street  roars 
on,  its  life  at  full  tide,  sweeping  the  children  by  our 
closed  doors." 

Ethical  Principles !  The  old  questions  clung  to 
me  with  all  the  tenacity  of  a  first  impression,  "  Is 
the  teacher  responsible  for  what  the  child  does  out 
of  school?  If  this  is  not  the  teacher's  province  how 
can  the  teacher  ever  know  that  her  work  counts  in 
the  life  of  the  child?" 

Ill 

I  had  met  a  few,  a  very  few  parents  who  had 
come  into  the  school  on  rare  occasions.  They  had 
come  for  the  most  part  objecting  to  something  the 
school  was  doing.  But  what  of  the  great  mass,  who 
were  they? 

There  were  parents  who  were  ignorant,  almost, 
of  the  school's  existence.  Some  of  them  did  not 
know  the  teacher's  name,  nor  the  child's  class,  nor 


70       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

the  number  of  the  school.  They  hardly  knew  where 
the  school  was.  Perhaps  they  had  sent  a  neighbour 
to  register  the  child  in  the  "  baby  "  class  and  had 
never  been  near  the  school.  What  did  they  know 
of  the  school?  What  did  they  care? 

What  did  we  know  of  their  homes?  What  did 
we  care? 

We  would  know,  we  would  care,  I  determined. 
We  would  go  to  them  and  learn  what  was  beyond 
their  closed  doors. 

There  was  Hyman.  He  was  dirty,  more  than 
dirty.  Word  was  sent  home  that  Hyman  should 
have  a  bath.  No  bath  was  given.  Dirt  reaches  a 
climax.  It  did  in  this  case. 

Then  the  teacher  said,  "  Hyman,  if  no  one  else 
will  wash  you,  I  will.  But  washed  you  must  be." 

Hyman  led  the  way  cheerfully.  There  was  a 
short  journey  through  crowded  streets,  a  dark  hall- 
way, long  flights  of  stairs,  then  Hyman's  home. 
The  living  room  was  kitchen  and  dining-room  as 
well.  Hyman's  mother  was  at  the  tubs.  On  the 
table  in  one  corner  was  a  cut  up  chicken,  the  night's, 
dinner;  close  to  the  chicken  was  a  pair  of  newly 
mended  shoes.  There  was  a  loaf  of  bread  with  the 
heart  pulled  out  of  it  and  a  dish  of  butter  showing 
finger  marks.  Odd  dishes,  a  coffee  pot  with  streaks 
of  coffee  down  its  sides  and  some  freshly  washed 


Outside  the  School  71 

clothes    filled    the    rest    of   the    table.     Children's 
clothes  were  all  about. 

There  were  five  school  children  in  this  family. 
Each  on  his  way  from  school  dropped  his  belongings, 
helped  himself  to  a  chunk  of  bread  and  a  dab  of 
butter  and  made  for  the  street,  the  only  available 
place  to  pursue  his  right  to  "  life,  liberty  and  the  pur- 
suit of  happiness." 

'  Yes,  I  know,  teacher,"  said  the  mother  limply, 
"  I  know  Hyman  is  dirty.  He  won't  wash  for  me. 
Maybe  he  will  for  you." 

Through  the  kitchen  into  the  bathroom  went  Hy- 
man and  his  teacher.  The  bathroom  was  the  family 
store-room.  Everything  was  there  that  anybody 
discarded  —  a  couple  of  hats,  an  empty  box  or  two, 
shoes,  old  clothes.  These  were  piled  on  the  floor, 
the  tub  cleaned  and  Hyman  with  the  teacher's  help 
got  into  the  bath,  the  first  in  many  days. 

Then  the  teacher  went  home,  thinking,  "  What's 
the  good  of  school,  just  school,  to  Hyman?  He 
needs  to  grow.  He  needs  to  learn  to  be  clean  more 
than  he  needs  to  learn  to  spell.  Congestion,  tene- 
ments, dirt,  neglect !  What  chance  has  Hyman  to  be 
a  fine  American  citizen?  " 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  about  a  home  I  visited  yester- 
day," a  teacher  said.  "  Percy  hasn't  done  any  real 


7*       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

work  since  he  entered  my  class  so  I  thought  I'd  call 
on  his  mother.  She  made  an  appointment  for  me 
and  I  went.  She  was  dressed  as  though  for  a  party 
and  when  I  apologised  for  detaining  her  she  said, 
1  Oh,  not  at  all.  It's  my  bridge  club  day  but  it's  early 
yet.  What  about  Percy?  Bothering  you?  Chil- 
dren are  a  bother,  aren't  they?  How  do  you  ever 
get  on  with  forty  or  fifty  of  them?  One  kills  me.1 

"  *  Percy  isn't  doing  any  school  work,'  I  said 
bluntly.  *  He  acts  as  if  he  needed  sleep  too.  He 
never  does  his  homework.' 

"'  Oh,  Mercy!  What's  homework?  Lessons? 
Of  course  he  doesn't  do  any  at  home.  Isn't  school 
enough?  ' 

"  *  It  is  for  some  boys  who  work.  But  Percy 
works  neither  at  home  nor  at  school.' 

"  *  M'm.  It's  too  bad.  You  see  we  entertain  a 
lot.  We  are  fond  of  having  our  friends  about  us; 
good  for  children  to  meet  people,  don't  you  think? 
Gives  them  an  air.' 

"'  But  does  the  child  sleep?' 

'  Oh,  of  course,  you  silly  child,  he  sleeps.  Let 
me  give  you  a  cup  of  tea.  No?  Maybe  you'd  have 
a  cocktail?  What  can  one  offer  a  school  marm? 
So  glad  to  have  seen  you.  Thanks  so  much  for  your 
interest  in  Percy!  He  comes  from  a  good  family. 
He'll  come  out  all  right.  Don't  worry.  So  glad. 
Good-bye.'  " 


Outside  the  School  73 

Then  there  was  Ruth.  The  teachers  found  her 
untractable  at  times  because  of  an  overwhelming  de- 
sire to  take  control  of  the  classroom.  On  the  whole 
she  was  worth  while  and  intelligent.  What  was  the 
trouble  with  Ruth  ? 

Ruth  was  ten  and  very,  very  wise.  She  had  glo- 
rious red  hair,  braided  and  bound  like  a  coronet. 
She  looked  at  you  out  of  beautiful,  green  eyes  and 
talked  in  slow,  monotonous  tones,  the  result  of  much 
experience  with  the  direct  facts  of  life.  Once  Ruth 
had  taken  off  her  little  red  flannel  petticoat  and 
waved  it  in  the  faces  of  the  Cossacks  who  had  come 
to  search  the  house  for  revolutionary  literature. 
This  little  demonstration  had  hurried  the  family's 
departure  from  Russia.  Somehow  she  had  grasped 
the  idea  of  going  straight  to  headquarters  when 
she  wanted  anything. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  mind,  but  I  want  to  ask  your 
advice,"  she  announced  one  day.  "  It  isn't  about 
school." 

Ruth  really  never  wanted  advice.  She  always 
felt  competent  to  give  it  so  I  waited  in  silence. 

"  Well,  you  see,  it's  this  way.  There  are  eight  of 
us  at  home  and  father,  he  sits  home  and  won't  go  to 
work  only  when  he  likes  it  and  then  he  gives  my 
mother  only  two  dollars  a  week.  That  isn't  much 
for  a  room  and  meals,  especially  now.  Well,  I 
wouldn't  mind  his  not  paying  more  money,  if  he 


74      A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

would  only  leave  my  mother  and  the  children  alone. 
No,  he  sits  there  and  complains  and  swears  to  my 
brothers  and  sisters.  Such  languages  isn't  good  for 
children  to  hear.  He  is  getting  worse  and  worse 
every  day,  and  my  mother  cries  and  I  can't  bear  to 
see  my  mother  cry.  You  don't  know  how  hard  my 
mother  works. 

4  There  is  Abe.  He  is  eight,  but  he  is  a  little 
stupid  and  very  weak  and  can't  eat  regular  food. 
And  my  big  sister  that  goes  to  work  in  the  fur 
shop  downtown  and  gets  home  all  tired  out.  You 
could  hardly  believe  how  hard  she  works. 

*'  And  my  father  makes  all  this  trouble.  He  plays 
cards  at  night  with  his  friends  that  came  from  the 
other  side  with  him,  the  same  country  he  came  from. 
When  the  men  come  to  play  cards,  we  must  stay  up 
late,  and  that's  not  good  for  us.  I  can't  stand  it 
any  longer." 

Here  Ruth  stopped  talking  and  looked  at  me  ex- 
pectantly. 

Still  I  waited,  merely  lifting  an  inquiring  eyebrow. 

"  I  took  advice,"  she  resumed,  "  and  went  before 
the  judge  and  told  him  everything.  Now  had  I 
right?  The  judge  asked  me  if  we  wanted  to  put 
him  out.  I  said  no,  he  was  my  father,  but  I  wanted 
the  judge  to  make  him  stop  using  bad  languages. 
The  judge  did,  and  told  me  to  come  to  him  in  case 
there  was  any  more  trouble." 


Outside  the  School  75 

"  How  has  your  father  been  since  ?  "  I  asked  her 
when  I  had  sufficiently  recovered. 

"  Very  well.  He  does  not  talk  much,  but  he 
looks  as  if  he  wanted  to.  I  don't  care;  I  know 
what's  good  for  him." 

"  Is  he  to  give  you  any  more  money?  " 

"  Yes,  the  judge  said  he  must  give  half  his  salary 
at  least  and  he  must  work,  and  be  good,  and  be 
proud  of  his  children." 

I  found  a  boy  in  a  classroom  after  school  hours. 
His  shirt  was  full  of  flowers  that  other  children  had 
brought  to  the  teacher. 

"What  are  going  to  do  with  them?" 

"  Take  them  home  and  hide  them." 

Why  hide  them?  His  mother  would  not  let  him 
take  the  flowers  home.  She  did  not  want  him  to 
steal  flowers. 

I  went  to  see  his  father.  He  knew  his  boy  took 
flowers  not  only  from  the  teacher  but  from  the  florist 
and  from  the  park.  He  would  punish  the  boy  as  he 
had  done  many  times  before.  I  could  see  for  my- 
self by  examining  the  boy's  body.  He  would  whip 
him  more  now  than  ever. 

"  What  can  I  do?  "  he  went  on.  "  I  go  out  to 
work  all  day.  I  have  three  children  that  go  to  school. 
I  make  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day  when  it  does  not 
rain ;  I  have  to  pay  fourteen  dollars  a  month  rent.  I 


76       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

want  my  boy  to  learn.  I  give  him  plenty  to  cat 
though  beans  are  ten  cents  a  pound.  I  try  to  make 
him  study  and  he  goes  out  stealing  flowers  and  dis- 
graces me." 

"  A  dollar  and  fifty  cents  a  day,  when  it  does  not 
rain."  I  saw  the  man's  torn  shoes,  his  shabby 
clothes  and  knotted  fingers.  I  saw  the  boy's  skinny 
body  and  his  starving  soul  craving  for  the  sweet  earth 
flowers.  Was  it  the  children's  fault? 

"  Please  help  me.  Do  something  for  me," 
pleaded  a  sixteen  year  old  girl  just  out  of  school. 
"My  little  brother  makes  such  a  fuss  at  homel 
When  he  does  not  like  his  food,  he  pulls  the  table 
cloth  on  the  floor  and  breaks  the  dishes.  When  a 
young  man  comes  to  see  me,  my  brother  makes  such 
trouble  that  he  never  comes  back.  Now  I  am  get- 
ting along  in  years.  I'll  be  seventeen  next  birthday. 
I  am  losing  my  chances.  He  threw  the  sofa  pillows 
out  of  the  window.  I  must  take  from  my  savings 
to  buy  more  pillows  and  dishes.  How  can  I  save 
up  for  a  husband?  " 

"  Please  make  my  boy  clean  himself  before  he 
comes  to  school.  He  won't  do  it  for  me." 

"  Please  talk  to  Herbert  about  hitting  his  little 
brother.  You  have  such  influence  over  him." 

"  Put  my  boy  away.  He  is  no  good.  He  steals 
my  money." 


Outside  the  School  77 

"  Solomon  is  at  home  stamping  his  feet.  He  will 
not  go  for  me.  Please  send  the  officer." 

"  Please  tell  Dorothy  she  must  take  hej-  medicine. 
She  will  do  it  for  you.  It's  a  bother  to  you  I  know, 
but  I'll  make  it  all  right  with  you." 

Inadequate,  isolated  homes,  forever  closing  their 
doors  and  forever  begging  us  to  come  in! 

IV 

On  one  side  of  the  school  was  the  road,  dusty, 
badly  kept  and  constantly  used.  Across  the  street 
was  the  park,  beautiful  and  fresh  at  first  but  as  the 
population  increased,  abused  and  neglected  more 
and  more. 

On  the  other  side  ran  the  elevated  trains  that  dis- 
turbed us  all.  Assembly  exercises  in  the  morning 
had  to  stop  to  let  the  trains  go  by.  Classroom  reci- 
tations had  to  stop  too  for  there  was  no  competi- 
tion. The  children  and  the  teachers  got  the  habit 
of  waiting  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence  as  the  roar 
began,  swelled, —  ceased. 

The  school  district  reached  across  the  park  to  the 
east  where  lived  many  families  who  owned  their  own 
houses.  These  were  the  first  residents,  the  lovers  of 
grass  and  open  spaces,  of  home  and  family  tradi- 
tions. It  extended  westward  four  blocks  to  the 
tracks  of  the  railroad  and  north  and  south  almost  a 


78       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

quarter  of  a  mile  each  way.  A  wide  area  this. 
Scattered  about  were  empty  lots,  fences, —  long 
stretches  of  fences,  empty  houses  and  flats.  The 
neighbourhood  was  in  a  state  of  transition  from  a 
dignified  provincial  suburb  to  a  mass  of  tenements. 
There  was  a  group  of  people  who  came  from  the 
southern  part  of  the  city  each  spring  that  their  chil- 
dren might  enjoy  the  open  spaces  of  the  neighbour- 
hood. They  remained  until  fall  when  they  returned 
to  their  steam  heated  flats.  This  made  an  unstable 
community  in  the  school  and  in  the  neighbourhood. 
Each  time  they  came  fewer  of  them  returned  and  the 
tenements  grew  in  number. 

This  meant  that  most  of  our  children  came  from 
little  two,  three  and  four  room  flats,  strung  along 
block  upon  block.  In  such  homes  there  was  little 
time  or  room  for  play,  work  or  fun.  As  the  crowds 
came  the  tenements  increased  and  poured  their  ten- 
ants out  upon  the  sidewalks  and  streets.  The  street 
corner,  the  curb,  the  candy  shop,  the  pool  room,  the 
dance  hall  were  becoming  the  social  centres  of  the 
district. 

There  was  a  mixture  of  races.  These  were  peo- 
ple who  had  come  from  various  countries  of  Eu- 
rope and  they  differed  in  their  attitude  towards 
ethics,  society,  religion,  education,  cleanliness. 
These  differences  isolated  the  various  groups,  the 
families,  and  the  blocks. 


Outside  the  School  79 

These  parents  did  not  understand  the  newer  con- 
ditions of  life.  They  did  not  understand  the  city. 
They  did  not  understand  the  school.  They  did  not 
understand  the  older  residents. 

In  their  turn  they  too  were  misunderstood  even 
by  their  own  children.  The  child  saw  in  the  rush 
of  the  school  life  the  idea  of  getting  on.  In  school 
he  saw  life  in  a  white  collar,  fine  clothes,  and  an  easy 
job.  Home  was  not  like  this. 

Michael  was  one  of  the  brightest  and  most  promis- 
ing among  the  boys.  He  was  a  yard  monitor.  He 
came  to  school  early  and  stayed  late.  He  helped 
the  teachers  attend  to  supplies  and  hang  pictures. 
Whatever  the  work  in  hand,  Michael  was  first  assist- 
ant. 

A  neighbour  brought  Michael's  mother  in  to  see 
me.  She  turned  to  her  friend  and  spoke  in  a  for- 
eign tongue  and  the  neighbour  answered,  and  turned 
to  me  saying, — "  She  speaks  no  English.  I  have 
come  to  talk  to  you  for  her." 

"  That's  too  bad.  I  thought  Michael  was  born 
in  this  city?  "  I  said. 

"  Oh,  yes,  they've  been  in  this  country  fifteen 
years,  but  she  never  learned  the  language.  She's 
religious  and  doesn't  go  around  much." 

Michael's  mother  was  anxiously  watching  our 
faces  while  we  talked  and  now  she  spoke  again  to  the 
neighbour. 


8o       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

"  She  says  to  tell  you  that  she  wants  to  see 
Michael." 

Michael  was  sent  for  and  came  into  the  office  with 
his  usual  cheerful  willingness.  When  he  saw  his 
mother  he  stopped.  She  went  toward  him.  Mi- 
chael backed  against  the  wall,  his  face  sullen  and  em- 
barrassed. His  mother  talked  pleadingly.  She  put 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  he  pushed  it  off  rudely. 
Then  his  mother  sank  into  a  chair  and  began  to  cry 
softly. 

Michael  stood  against  the  wall  scowling  down  at 
his  shoes.  I  looked  on  wondering  what  it  could  be 
about.  The  neighbour  began  to  talk. 

"  It's  a  pity.  It's  a  shame.  Mickee,  you 
shouldn't  treat  your  mother  that  way." 

"  She  shouldn't  come  here,"  muttered  Michael. 

The  neighbour  looked  from  Michael  to  the  weep- 
ing woman  and  anger  shone  in  her  face  as  she  turned 
to  me. 

'You  think  Michael  is  a  good  boy,  don't  you? 
You  like  him.  Well,  I  don't.  You  think  you  do  a 
lot  for  him  by  keeping  him  in  school  all  day  long 
and  letting  him  run  all  over  for  the  teachers. 
You're  just  spoiling  him.  You're  only  making  him 
selfish.  He  thinks  he's  too  good  to  talk  to  his  own 
mother.  That's  what  you're  doing  if  you  want  to 
know  the  truth." 

Then  turning  to  Michael  she  said,  "If  you  be- 


Outside  the  School  81 

longed  to  me  you  wouldn't  act  like  that.  I'd  fix 
you." 

Michael  lifted  his  head  ready  to  answer  but  catch- 
ing my  eye  resumed  his  sullen  attitude  again. 

"  You  can  go  to  your  room  now,  Michael.  Come 
in  to  see  me  after  hours,"  I  said  to  his  great  re- 
lief. 

"  I'd  wish,"  the  neighbour  broke  in,  "  you  would 
take  a  stick  to  that  kid's  back.  His  mother  can  do 
nothing  more  with  him.  I'm  sorry  for  her.  She 
came  from  Russia  years  ago.  She  was  quiet  and 
stayed  in  the  house.  Michael  is  ashamed  of  her  be- 
cause she  can't  talk  English.  He  makes  fun  of  her 
clothes.  .When  there  is  a  school  party  he  doesn't 
even  tell  her.  Her  husband  learned  English  and  all 
the  American  ways  quickly.  So  did  the  children. 
Now  her  husband  is  ashamed  of  her  and  he  lives  by 
himself.  Michael  goes  to  see  him  and  lots  of  times 
he  stays  two  or  three  days.  His  mother  hasn't  seen 
him  this  week.  That's  why  she  came  here,  to  beg 
him  to  come  home  to  her." 

Here  were  children  and  parents  living  their  lives 
apart.  These  children  were  ashamed  because  their 
parents  did  not  speak  or  look  like  Americans.  How 
could  I  help  the  children  in  my  school  respond  to  the 
dreams  of  their  fathers?  How  could  I  get  the 
fathers  to  share  in  the  work  of  building  a  school  for 
their  children? 


82       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

The  parents  often  misunderstood  the  motives  of 
the  school  in  dealing  with  their  children.  Espe- 
cially was  this  true  of  the  parents  whose  children 
were  fitted  for  manual  rather  than  for  intellectual 
labour. 

When  their  fourteen  year  old  boys  and  girls  who 
had  almost  reached  their  full  physical  growth  and 
had  difficulty  in  making  the  fifth  grade  were  placed 
in  a  special  class  in  which  the  emphasis  was  put  on 
the  fundamentals  of  learning  because  they  would 
soon  have  to  go  out  and  work  for  a  living,  the  par- 
ents came  to  protest. 

I  did  not  blame  them  for  protesting  although  my 
reason  was  different  from  theirs.  Already  these 
children  had  had  too  much  of  the  fundamentals. 
Their  mentalities  had  foundered  on  the  sacred  three 
R's.  In  these  average  special  classes  instead  of  less 
of  the  three  R's,  the  children  got  more  of  them.  It 
was  like  taking  a  drowning  man  out  of  a  lake  and 
throwing  him  into  the  sea. 

But  the  parents  protested  not  because  these  chil- 
dren were  being  given  more  reading,  writing  and 
arithmetic,  but  because  the  special  class  meant  that 
the  child  who  was  put  there  was  an  outcast  from  the 
normal  school  life.  He  would  soon  have  to  go  to 
work  because  he  had  no  brains  for  books. 

In  the  country  they  came  from  this  question  would 
not  have  arisen.  The  children  would  have  gone  to 


Outside  the  School  83 

the  farm  or  the  factory  as  their  fathers  for  genera- 
tions had  gone.  But  it  was  to  avoid  that  future  they 
had  come  to  this  new  land  and  when  we  were  obliged 
to  say  to  some  of  them  that  their  children  would 
never  be  able  to  become  doctors  or  lawyers  or  priests 
but  they  would  and  should  become  workingmen  and 
women,  they  were  bitter  in  their  denunciation  of  the 
school. 

So  it  was  in  matters  of  health.  Parents  who  had 
been  brought  up  in  the  country  where  there  was  no 
noise,  no  confusion,  no  confinement,  where  the  food 
came  directly  from  the  soil,  were  somewhat  at  a  loss 
to  appreciate  why  it  was  that  their  children  so  often 
were  ill. . 

They  could  not  understand  that  the  noise  of  the 
city  life  and  the  speed  of  city  work,  the  effect  of 
canned  foodstuff  and  adulterated  food  products  were 
factors  in  the  lives  of  their  children.  They  could 
not,  therefore,  understand  why  their  children  could 
not  grow  as  they  had. 

Having  been  in  the  habit  of  trusting  nature,  they 
declared  when  the  school  required  medical  attention, 
'  The  child  will  grow  out  of  it.  I  never  had  such 
diseases  and  why  should  my  child?"  Even  when 
they  seemed  convinced  that  medical  attention  was 
necessary  they  still  had  little  faith  in  what  was  told 
them,  or  in  the  doctor  and  his  medicine. 

The  school  alone  could  do  nothing.     It  was  not 


84       A  Schoolmaster  of  tht  Great  City 

organised  with  the  idea  of  a  maximum  spiritual  and 
intellectual  growth. 

The  home  alone  could  do  nothing.  It  was  iso- 
lated, antagonistic,  indifferent.  It  shut  its  eyes  fear- 
ing, distrusting,  hoping  for  better  things  but  doing 
nothing.  The  more  it  lived  by  itself  the  less  able  it 
became  to  hold  the  children  close  to  itself. 

I  had  learned  that  education  was  a  matter  of 
co-operation  between  parents  and  teachers.  Con- 
duct, self-expression,  meant  action  in  the  street  and 
home.  Moral  education  meant  group  reaction. 

The  problems  of  my  school,  therefore,  loomed  up 
as  the  problems  of  our  community.  The  transfers 
of  our  teachers  and  of  our  children,  the  equipment 
of  the  building,  the  curriculum,  were  not  only  school 
problems  but  community  problems.  Unless  the  peo- 
ple knew  about  and  shared  in  the  education  of  their 
children  the  schools  would  be  inefficient.  To  save 
the  school  and  the  home  from  becoming  cloistered, 
self  centred,  the  culture  of  children  would  have  to 
be  a  co-operative  effort  between  the  people  and  the 
teachers. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    PARENTS   AT   WORK 


"  How  did  you  begin?  " 

I  don't  know  exactly  how  I  began.  I  began  as  so 
many  others  did  without  realising  that  I  was  begin- 
ning anything  unusual.  I  began  slowly,  hesitatingly, 
making  many  mistakes  as  I  went. 

"  How  did  you  begin?  " 

Does  not  that  very  question  try  to  force  a  tabu- 
lated, logically  arranged  answer  that  may  be  ap- 
plied like  a  formula  to  any  situation?  Is  it  not  more 
important  to  know  why  the  school  began,  and  how 
the  work  grew,  and  the  value  of  what  the  school 
learned  while  it  was  growing? 

I  explained  to  the  teachers  that  we  needed  the 
parents.  How  we  were  going  to  get  them  was  an- 
other matter.  I  have  a  feeling  that  we  started  by 
noting  the  men  and  women  who  seemed  to  take  some 
interest  in  the  school  life  of  their  children.  I  dis- 
tinctly remember  that  we  studied  the  various  neigh- 
bourhood groups  to  discover  who  the  leaders  were, 

8s 


86       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

that  we  singled  out  those  who  objected  most  to  what 
the  children  were  doing  in  their  street  time.  Slowly, 
almost  unconsciously,  the  neighbourhood  people 
came  in  touch  with  the  school  and  with  each  other. 

Our  primary  task  was  to  hear  the  people  talk. 
The  more  they  talked  the  sooner  we  were  able  to  see 
what  they  were  like  and  what  they  had  to  give  to 
the  school.  We  were  good  listeners  and  when  we 
saw  that  a  neighbour's  vital  interests  touched  some 
phase  of  common  social  growth,  we  knew  that  neigh- 
bour had  something  to  give  that  the  school  needed. 

Early  one  morning,  before  opening  exercises,  a 
gentleman  came  in  and  said  he  must  see  me  at  once. 
He  was  greatly  excited  and  paced  up  and  down  the 
office  as  he  talked. 

"  Two  of  my  boys  come  to  this  school  so  I  think 
you  ought  to  be  interested  in  what  concerns  their 
welfare  and  whatever  goes  on  in  the  neighbourhood 
concerns  them  mightily." 

Here  was  a  man  with  a  point  of  view.  I  listened 
intently. 

'  Yesterday  one  of  them  might  have  been  killed 
by  one  of  your  pupils.  The  milkman  leaves  his 
cases  of  empty  bottles  in  the  vacant  lot  opposite  my 
house.  Yesterday  afternoon  a  gang  of  boys  fought 
the  children  on  the  block  with  those  bottles.  They 
threw  them  at  each  other's  heads,  sir.  I  tell  you  it's 
outrageous.  My  boys  were  coming  home  peaceably 


The  Parents  at  Work  87 

when  some  of  those  ruffians  attacked  them  with 
empty  bottles  —  glass  bottles.  It's  murderous,  I 
tell  you.  Fun's  fun  but  this  is  no  fun."  And  he 
brought  his  clenched  fist  down  smartly  on  his  out- 
stretched palm.  "What's  the  school  doing?  Can 
you  offer  us  parents  no  better  protection  for  our  chil- 
dren than  this?  " 

Drawing  himself  to  his  full  height  and  speaking 
more  earnestly  if  possible  he  rallied  me  to  a  sense 
of  my  duty.  "  The  public  school  is  or  ought  to  be 
the  greatest  force  for  good  in  the  community.  If 
it's  going  to  stand  by  and  see  these  children  of  for- 
eigners actually  murder  our  children  —  the  children 
of  generations  of  Americans  who  gave  their  lives  for 
their  flag  and  their  country  —  then  this  nation  is 
lost,  sir.  As  a  parent  and  a  citizen  I  call  upon  you 
to  do  your  duty.  Search  out  the  miscreants  and 
mete  out  fit  punishment  for  them.  Skinning's  too 
good  for  them." 

Advancing  to  the  desk  shelf  that  separated  us  he 
punctuated  his  rapid  phrases  with  sharp  taps  of  his 
fingers.  "  When  I  went  to  school  they  used  to  teach 
the  children  respect  for  law  and  order  and  above 
all  a  regard  for  truth.  But  the  schools  these  days 
have  no  time  to  teach  law  and  order.  They  have  no 
time  to  teach  the  simple  adherence  to  the  truth." 

"  But,"  I  suggested,  before  he  could  begin  again, 
"  perhaps  some  of  this  misbehaviour  which  as  you 


88       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

state  occurs  outside  the  school  is  due  to  the  lack  of 
care  and  influence  of  the  home  folk?  " 

"  Maybe,  maybe,  a  little  of  it.  But  work  isn't 
done  by  shifting  the  responsibility,  you  know.  I've 
pointed  out  the  disease.  The  remedy  is  up  to  you." 

"  I'll  investigate  this,"  I  said.  "  I'll  report  my 
findings  to  you  if  you  wish." 

"  Indeed  I  wish.  I'll  come  back  again  in  a  day  or 
so.  I  believe  in  the  personal  touch,  sir,"  and  with  a 
grim  "  Good  day,  sir,"  he  marched  out. 

I  called  in  one  of  the  older  teachers  in  the  school 
and  told  her  the  story  and  asked  her  to  search  the 
thing  carefully.  I  wanted  to  make  a  thorough  re- 
port to  the  man. 

"  We  ought  to  get  his  energy  and  interest  in  the 
school  if  we  can  manage  it,"  I  added. 

True  to  his  word  he  came  back  a  few  days  later. 

"Well,  sir,  what  have  you?  Not  forgotten  all 
about  it  I  hope  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  I've  not  forgotten.  I  find  that 
the  boys  concerned  in  the  bottle  fight  were  two  groups 
of  our  boys  who  were  dismissed  after  the  main  body 
of  the  school  had  gone  home  for  the  day  and  no 
teachers  and  monitors  were  on  duty." 

"  Just  what  I  said,  nobody  on  the  job,  sir." 

"  And,"  I  went  on  without  heeding  the  interrup- 
tion, "  both  groups  of  boys  threw  the  bottles  at  each 
other  without  any  thought  of  hurting  any  one. 


The  Parents  at  Work  89 

They  had  no  quarrel.  It  was  just  the  reaction  after 
the  repression  of  the  day,  a  very  dangerous  one,  to  be 
sure,  but  boys  are  heedless  and  thoughtless." 

"  Heedless  and  thoughtless  —  I  should  — " 

"  Another  thing,"  I  insisted,  interrupting  him,  "  I 
found  that  a  few  of  these  boys  had  taken  milk  from 
the  neighbours'  bottles  to  feed  some  stray  cats  they 
were  keeping  as  pets  in  the  vacant  lot  across  the 
street  from  your  home." 

"  Awful !  Murderous  weapons  to  beat  the  brains 
out  of  one  another  and  then  thievery !  Just  what  I 
told  you,  sir.  Now — " 

I  could  restrain  him  no  longer,  and  once  more  he 
pointed  a. solemn  finger  at  me.  "  I  demand  of  you, 
young  man,  that  for  the  good  of  the  children  we  par- 
ents have  entrusted  to  your  care,  you  search  out  these 
offenders  and  punish  them,  that  you  make  every 
reasonable  effort  to  see  that  the  streets  are  safe 
places  for  the  children  of  the  neighbourhood.  My 
advice  is  to  look  for  the  leaders  and  the  rest  will  be 
easy." 

"  I  have  one  or  two  of  them,"  I  said. 

"  Good,"  he  answered  with  a  note  of  surprise. 

"  One  of  them  is  Henry." 

"Henry?     Henry  who?" 

"Why —  your  Henry." 

"  My  son?  Never,  sir  —  you're  joking,  I'm  seri- 
ous in  this.  My  son?" 


90       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

4  Well,  suppose  you  ask  him.  He  told  me  him- 
self, and  he  keeps  a  couple  of  the  cats." 

Varying  emotions  chased  themselves  swiftly  across 
the  fine  old  face.  Then  a  grin  stole  over  it  — 

4  Well,  well,  sir.  I'm  astonished:  and  Henry 
told  you  ?  " 

4  Yes  —  you  see,  there's  very  little  a  boy  can  do 
after  school  but  get  into  mischief.  In  your  day  it 
was  different.  There  were  many  things  to  keep  you 
busy.  Perhaps  now,  you  could  help  us  get  some 
after-school  activities  for  the  children.  Working 
together  we  could  do  something." 

14  I'll  help  you  in  any  way  I  can,  sir.  This  neigh- 
bourhood must  be  a  decent  place  for  our  children. 
Just  show  me  how  I  can  be  of  service  and  I'll  be  de- 
lighted to  assist  you."  Then  a  vestige  of  the  old 
grin  appeared  as  he  rose  to  go.  "  I  believe  in  the 
personal  touch,  sir,  the  personal  touch.  I'll  attend 
to  Henry." 

"  This  is  one  parent  I  can  count  on,"  I  said  as  he 
walked  out. 

When  the  children  needed  a  garden  the  teachers 
went  to  the  real  estate  operator  on  the  corner.  He 
was  interested  at  once  and  loaned  us  a  nearby  lot  and 
allowed  us  a  room  in  his  office  suite  to  store  our 
tools. 

He  was  one  of  the  leaders  whom  we  had  made  up 


The  Parents  at  Work  91 

our  minds  we  should  have.  He  was  the  kind  to 
help  make  the  school's  needs  the  people's  opportuni- 
ties. 

Fancy  the  busiest  real  estate  man  in  our  district 
allowing  a  troup  of  grubby  young  ones  to  prance  in 
and  out  of  his  office  daily  for  months,  armed  with 
rakes,  hoes,  spades,  shovels,  trowels,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  sheet  iron  wheel-barrow  that  brought  up  the 
clattering  rear. 

This  he  did  and  smiled. 

One  day  he  was  seated  in  conference  with  some 
dignified  city  officials  whom  he  was  trying  to  per- 
suade to  some  civic  betterment  plan  he  had  taken  to 
his  heart.  The  gardeners,  hushed  by  the  anxious 
teacher,  pigeon-toed  into  the  outer  room.  With  un- 
usual quiet,  tools  were  stacked  in  the  corner.  Isaac 
and  his  beloved  barrow  came  last.  The  children 
held  their  breath  while  he  skilfully  reversed  his  pet 
and  leaned  it  against  the  wall.  Alas  —  alack  — 
the  relieved  teacher  was  taking  the  hushing  finger 
from  her  lips  and  turning  towards  the  door  when 
that  barrow  slipped,  slid,  and  the  whole  armoury, 
each  bit,  screeching  its  own  note  of  protest,  crashed 
to  the  floor. 

"  Bless  my  life,"  called  the  most  dignified  city 
official  starting  out  of  his  chair. 

Calm  as  a  summer  day  our  friend  merely  turned 
his  head  and  said,  "  Those  kids  certainly  have  the 


92       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

time  of  their  little  lives  on  that  bit  of  land.  I  tell 
you,  gentlemen,  there's  nothing  like  it.  Back  to  the 
land!  The  land  is  the  source  of  all  wealth  — "  All 
right,  children,"  as  they  essayed  to  restore  order  out 
of  the  heap  of  hardware.  "  It's  all  right.  Harry'll 
fix  all  that.  The  tools  need  cleaning  up  anyway." 

The  streets  and  park  in  front  of  the  school  were 
bare  of  trees  and  we  thought  Arbour  Day  would  be 
a  fine  time  to  plant  some. 

Accordingly  a  committee  of  teachers  wrote  the 
Park  Commissioner  asking  for  trees  for  Arbour 
Day.  He  wrote  a  very  non-committal  note,  the  gist 
of  which  was  that  he  didn't  understand  what  children 
were  going  to  do  with  valuable  trees. 

We  were  all  discussing  the  note  and  wondering 
what  next  to  do  when  the  teacher  came  in  from  her 
gardening  class. 

"  I  think  we  have  the  trees.  I  met  Robert  Hull 
on  my  way  in.  He's  one  of  the  Administration  law- 
yers now,  you  know.  I  used  to  teach  him.  He 
wanted  to  know  what  I  was  doing  with  the  '  kids 
and  the  spades '  and  I  told  him  and  mentioned  our 
difficulty  about  the  trees. 

"  *  That's  because  you  teachers  are  a  lot  of  ama- 
teurs,' he  said.  'You  don't  know  how;  the  Park 
Commissioner  doesn't  know  you  from  a  hole  in  the 
ground;  you  don't  cut  any  political  ice  and  he  doesn't 


The  Parents  at  Work  93 

know  the  kids'  side  of  it.  I'll  go  and  explain  to  him 
and  I  have  a  hunch  you'll  get  those  trees.' ' 

We  got  them  too  —  twelve  beauties. 

Each  year  after  this  a  dozen  trees  were  given  the 
school  by  the  park  department.  After  the  first  year 
the  trees  were  given,  not  because  of  individual  re- 
quests, but  because  of  the  new  relation  established 
between  the  public  school  and  the  Department  of 
Parks. 

As  the  months  passed  people  became  as  inter- 
esting to  us  as  children.  All  sorts  of  folks  with  all 
sorts  of  stories  came  to  school.  The  more  we 
looked  the  more  we  found  those  that  were  most  use- 
ful to  us. 

A  motherly  looking  woman  was  shown  in  one  day 
and  stood  looking  at  me  as  if  doubtful  whether  she 
should  come  in  or  go  out. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you?  " 

"  Are  you  the  principal  ?  " 

*  Yes,  can  I  help  you?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  that's  just  why  I  came.  I've  been 
everywhere  and  don't  know  where  else  to  go.  I'm 
bothered  my  life  out  with  a  child.  Not  mine.  If 
she  was  mine,  I'd  kill  her." 

"  Does  she  come  to  this  school?  " 

11  Not  a  bit  of  it.  She  goes  to  no  school  and  she's 
close  on  to  twelve." 


94       A  Schoolmastfr  of  the  Great  City 

"  Why  doesn't  she  go  to  school?  " 

"  No  school  would  have  her,  I'm  thinking,  and 
small  blame  to  them.  She's  one  bad  habit.  She's 
a  '  runner.' ' 

"A  runner?" 

1  Yes,  she's  always  going  somewhere  and  never 
content  when  she  gets  there  till  she  gets  somewhere 
else,  d'ye  understand?"  And  she  dabbed  her  per- 
spiring face  with  a  wadded  handkerchief.  Explana- 
tions were  hard  work. 

'  Well,  she  keeps  our  whole  block  on  edge.  We 
never  know  what's  to  do  next.  But  this  last  is  the 
limit.  Tuesday  she  walked  into  my  area  where  my 
baby  was  sleeping  in  its  carriage  and  lifted  it  and 
away  with  it  down  the  block.  She  got  tired  of  carry- 
ing it  —  he's  a  heavy  child,  and  doesn't  she  go  into 
another  woman's  basement  and  take  her  baby  car- 
riage out  and  away  she  pelts. 

"  To  make  a  long  story  short,  after  we  had  called 
up  the  police  and  the  hospitals,  she  came  walking  up 
to  me. 

1  Are  you  looking  for  the  baby?  '  she  asks,  meek 
as  a  lamb. 

'"lam.     Where  is  he?' 

"  *  I  left  him  down  the  street  in  Conlon's  base- 
ment,' says  she. 

11  There  he  was  right  enough.     We  went  to  the 


The  Parents  at  Work  95 

police  lieutenant  and  says  he,  '  You  got  the  baby  all 
right?' 

"  '  Surely.' 

"  *  And  you  got  the  carriage?  ' 

"  '  To  be  sure.' 

"  *  Well,  spank  the  kid  and  close  the  case,'  said  he, 
and  thought  it  a  good  joke.  Can  you  do  some- 
thing? " 

I  asked  her  to  bring  the  mother  of  the  little  girl  to 
see  me.     They  came  very  soon.     The  mother  of  the 
sinner  was  sweet  faced  and  sad. 

"  I'm  sorry  Kate  is  so  troublesome,"  she  said. 
"  She  is  very  hard  to  control.  I  cannot  keep  her  in 
school.  She  runs  out  every  chance  she  gets  and  she 
is  so  trying  the  teacher  is  glad  to  have  her  go.  I 
have  a  crippled  husband  and  I  cannot  leave  him  long 
at  a  time  so  Kate  is  getting  little  or  no  training  and 
she  needs  it." 

The  accusing  mother  listened  intently. 

"  Hark  you,"  said  she  as  if  inspired  by  a  new 
idea.  "  If  I  bring  her  here  myself  every  day  will 
you  try  to  keep  her?  " 

"  I'll  do  my  best,"  I  answered. 

II  Then  I'll  do  it,"  she  said  firmly. 

Faithfully  she  kept  her  word.  She  escorted  her 
charge  to  and  from  school  regularly  for  almost  a 
year.  Then  the  child  came  without  her. 


96       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

But  the  self-appointed  truant  officer  had  got  a  per- 
sonal interest  in  the  school  and  the  children  that  she 
never  lost. 

We  were  getting  hold. 

These  were  the  old  residents.  If  we  could  get 
them  interested  and  active  then  they  might  not  all  go 
away.  Some  might  stay  with  us  and  help  interest 
the  new  comers,  holding  them  to  the  neighbourhood 
and  the  school. 

After  some  time  there  was  a  group  of  neighbours 
who  through  personal  service  had  a  genuine  interest 
in  the  school  life.  They  talked  about  the  school  to 
their  friends,  they  talked  about  the  school  to  their 
children.  Their  children  talked  about  the  school  to 
them.  Many  times  the  children  were  the  means  of 
bringing  parents  and  teachers  together. 

"  Mother,  please  come  and  see  my  teacher,"  said 
one  of  our  youngest  children.  The  mother  came 
leading  the  child  to  the  teacher's  classroom. 

"  Mother,"  the  child  whispered,  "  isn't  she  lovely? 
She  is  so  pretty.  She  has  lovely  blue  eyes  and  she 
smiles  all  the  time." 

Some  of  the  parents  invited  the  teachers  to  their 
homes  and  the  teachers  went.  The  teachers  invited 
the  parents  to  school  and  some  of  the  parents  came. 
Now  and  then  the  teacher  was  asked  to  the  pupil's 
birthday  party,  to  mother's  anniversary,  or  to  a  feast 
day  celebration. 


The  Parents  at  Work  97 

In  and  out  the  web  was  woven.  Here  and  there 
children,  teachers  and  parents  became  more  inti- 
mate, more  friendly.  The  school  world  that  had 
been  sufficient  within  itself  opened  up  its  doors;  a 
little  at  first,  but  as  the  days  passed  more  and  more. 


II 

We  saw  that  the  way  to  reach  people  and  keep 
their  co-operation  was  to  give  them  work.  Having 
secured  individual  co-operation  we  began  to  work  for 
group  co-operation.  We  wanted  the  parents  to  come 
into  the  school  as  a  collective  force. 

What  was  the  best  way  to  get  at  it?  We  held 
many  teachers'  meetings, —  formal  and  informal,  try- 
ing to  devise  a  scheme  that  would  bring  the  great 
mass  of  parents  in  touch  with  the  school. 

We  had  been  struggling  to  do  this  for  a  long  time 
and  had  succeeded  only  in  getting  the  parent  who 
was  already  interested  in  school  and  school  matters 
to  work  with  us.  The  parent  who  needed  us  most 
and  whose  interest  we  most  desired  to  arouse  was 
still  a  stranger  to  us. 

We  decided  on  a  course  of  meetings.  We  would 
do  what  the  other  schools  were  doing  at  their  par- 
ents' meetings.  We  would  have  concerts;  the  ap- 
peal of  music  was  universal.  We  would  have  popu- 
lar lectures  by  specialists.  We  set  to  work. 


98       A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

The  concert  was  the  first  thing  attempted.  We 
secured  the  use  of  the  building,  and  the  services  of 
fine  musicians.  The  little  group  of  parents  already 
our  helpers  promised  to  come  early  and  take  charge 
of  the  programme. 

The  evening  of  the  concert  came.  The  doors 
were  opened.  Henry's  father  presided.  The 
teachers  scattered  through  the  rooms  ready  to  greet 
the  parents  and  make  them  feel  at  home. 

At  eight  o'clock  fifteen  parents  who  had  been  in 
the  school  many  times  before,  were  assembled  in  the 
big  room  that  held  five  hundred.  At  eight  fifteen, 
twenty-seven  people  were  present.  Another  dozen 
strolled  in  by  eight-thirty  when  the  concert  began. 

That  night  we  held  a  conference  at  the  school 
door.  What  was  wrong?  We  had  done  every- 
thing we  could  think  of  to  make  the  evening  a  great 
success  and  this  was  the  result.  There  were  no  ex- 
planations, no  excuses.  We  had  failed.  We  went 
home  pondering  on  the  perversity  of  human  nature. 

We  tried  again.  This  time  we  had  a  lecture  on 
44  Pure  Food,"  a  subject  that  was  being  widely  dis- 
cussed throughout  the  city.  Again  we  made  our 
elaborate  preparations  and  advertised  the  lecture 
well  in  advance.  Nobody  came  but  our  own  little 
group. 

44  I'm  almost  afraid  to  suggest  what  I  have  in  mind 
because  it  is  contrary  to  what  we  have  been  teaching, 


The  Parents  at  Work  99 

but  '  desperate  diseases,'  you  know,"  said  one  of  our 
primary  teachers.  "  I  think  the  only  way  you  can 
get  the  average  father  and  mother  to  school  is  to 
invite  them  to  see  their  own  children  perform.  The 
parents  are  in  the  school  only  because  their  own  chil- 
dren are  here.  Let's  have  the  next  meeting  an  en- 
tertainment given  by  the  children.  I  think  the  folks 
will  come  then." 

"  But  it  will  keep  the  children  up  late." 

"  I've  thought  of  that.  We'll  keep  the  actors  in 
classrooms.  Immediately  after  they  perform  the 
teacher  in  charge  can  take  them  out  of  the  building 
and  send  them  home.  We'll  let  the  younger  chil- 
dren get  through  first." 

The  teacher  had  the  idea.  The  parents  were  in- 
terested in  their  own  children  first.  That  was  the 
place  to  begin. 

The  school  naturally  divided  into  grade  groups  ac- 
cording to  the  age  and  the  needs  of  the  pupils. 
There  were  the  kindergarten  and  the  first  year  chil- 
dren. There  was  the  primary  group  and  there  was 
the  upper  grade  group. 

The  teachers  in  each  of  these  groups  held  parents' 
meetings  after  school  hours.  The  parents  came  to 
the  classrooms  and  saw  the  children  and  the  teacher 
at  work  for  the  last  school  hours  of  the  day,  and 
then  when  the  children  were  dismissed  the  parents 
met  the  teachers  in  conference.  Then  the  discussion 


ioo     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

was  specific.  Whether  the  problem  was  getting  a 
lesson  or  cleaning  teeth  or  the  need  of  fresh  air,  it 
was  directly  applied  to  the  children. 

We  began  also  to  colour  our  evening  meetings 
with  the  performances  of  the  children  whose  par- 
ents seemed  further  away  from  us.  The  parents 
began  to  come.  When  they  came  once  they  were 
apt  to  come  again. 

All  this  time,  however,  the  teachers  were  doing  the 
work.  But  we  were  gathering  the  forces,  preparing 
the  way  for  effective  organisation. 

Having  done  these  things  it  was  again  decided  to 
hold  a  large  meeting.  We  were  going  to  try  once 
more  to  get  the  mass  feeling  in  sympathy  with  the 
school. 

This  meeting  opened  with  an  entertainment  —  a 
play  in  two  acts,  given  by  the  children.  The  school 
orchestra  furnished  the  music.  At  the  end  of 
the  first  act  I  spoke  to  the  people  who  filled  the 
hall. 

"  My  friends,"  I  said,  "  I  have  brought  you  here 
to  enlist  your  collective  help  in  the  work  of  the 
school.  Acting  together  as  a  moral  force  in  the 
neighbourhood  you  are  more  vital  to  the  education 
of  the  children  than  is  the  school. 

"  You  remember  the  story  of  the  cactus  plant,  how 
once  upon  a  time,  the  cactus  was  a  fine  flourishing 
plant  with  luscious  fruit.  Then  there  came  a  change 


The  Parents  at  Work  101 

over  that  part  of  the  earth  where  the  cactus  grew. 
The  mountains  heaved  and  the  wind  shifted. 

"  The  valley  that  was  once  rich  became  barren 
and  the  plants  died.  They  all  died  but  the  cactus 
plant,  which,  in  answer  to  the  new  needs  that  the 
changing  earth  brought,  toughened  its  skin  and  grew 
needles  all  over  its  body. 

'  The  winds  came  with  their  sandy  blasts  and  the 
cactus  plant  withstood  their  attacks.  It  had  be- 
come ugly,  repellent,  and  the  beasts  of  the  field 
could  not  touch  it. 

'*  Thousands  of  years  after,  a  man  came  by  who 
took  the  cactus  plant  and  put  it  in  his  garden. 

"  Here  there  were  no  hot  sandy  winds.  There 
was  moisture  and  soft  breezes  and  wonderful  soil 
to  grow  in.  The  cactus  plant  changed  and  became 
once  more  the  thing  it  had  been  in  the  beginning,  a 
fine  plant  with  luscious  fruit. 

"  So  it  is  with  your  children.  You  are  the  soil 
and  the  wind  and  the  light  in  which  the  child,  your 
plant,  grows.  You  are  the  environment,  the  com- 
pelling force  which  by  its  influence,  can  make  the  chil- 
dren fine  children,  or  can  make  of  them  warped  and 
twisted  natures  unfit  to  live  with,  unworthy  to  carry 
on  the  ideals  of  your  souls. 

"  Even  if  we  could  take  upon  our  shoulders  all  the 
responsibilities  of  the  home  and  relieve  you  entirely 
it  would  not  be  good  for  you  and  for  the  children. 


IO2     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

The  children  need  you.  You  cannot  afford  to  have 
the  teachers  take  over  your  responsibility. 

"  You  must  share  the  common  burden.  You  must 
work  all  together  to  make  the  conditions  of  life 
under  which  the  children  are  living  such  that  they 
will  grow  up  healthy,  intelligent,  sympathetic,  ap- 
preciative of  the  ideals  of  school,  appreciative  of  the 
ideals  of  family  life,  and  of  fine  American  citizen- 
ship." 

More  meetings  followed  this  one.  Like  the 
others  these  meetings  were  managed  by  the  teachers 
mainly.  As  long  as  the  meetings  remained  in  the 
teachers'  hands  they  belonged  to  the  teachers;  they 
were  large  classes  for  parents  where  the  teachers 
played  the  main  part,  and  the  parents  give  largely 
a  listening  co-operation.  What  the  parents  needed 
was  an  incentive.  Their  coming  together  enabled 
them  to  talk  to  each  other  about  school  problems. 
Before  we  knew  it  group  opinion  began  to  centre 
about  children's  needs,  equipment,  children's  work, 
school  continuity,  moral  training. 

At  first  a  few  had  come  protesting  about  the  shift- 
ing of  children.  They  had  come  as  individuals. 
Then  more  of  the  old  residents  of  the  district  dis- 
turbed by  the  conditions  of  things  in  the  school  and 
in  the  neighbourhood,  came  in  twos  and  threes  and 
made  their  objections.  They  felt  that  the  fine  old 
school  from  which  they  had  been  graduated  had  been 


The  Parents  at  Work  103 

offered  an  affront  —  had  lost  its  standing  and  pres- 
tige, and  that  they  must  have  this  adjusted. 

This  they  told  me  as  I  met  them  in  and  about  the 
school  and  I  appreciated  their  point  of  view  which 
harmonised  with  my  own  in  that  I  felt  the  loss  of  the 
older  children  to  be  a  serious  handicap  to  the  younger 
ones. 

Among  them  was  a  young  lawyer  whose  father  as 
well  as  himself  had  been  graduated  from  the  school. 

"  I  think  it  was  a  mistake,"  said  he;  "  I  think  the 
local  board  didn't  realise  the  meaning  of  their  action. 
I  know  them  all  pretty  well.  The  secretary  is  a  per- 
sonal friend  of  mine.  In  fact  I  asked  for  his  ap- 
pointment: I'll  go  over  with  a  few  of  the  folks  and 
talk  it  over  with  them." 

I  saw  him  again  a  few  days  later.  He  was  burst- 
ing with  wrath  and  indignation. 

"Think  of  it,"  he  stormed;  "think  of  it!  We 
went  over  and  there  they  all  sat  about  the  big  table. 
I  started  to  talk  and  the  gentleman  at  the  head  of 
the  table  held  up  his  hand  and  said,  *  Have  you  an 
appointment  here  to-night?' 

"  *  No,'  I  said,  *  I  haven't,  I  just  came  in  to  speak 
to  you  about  our  top  grades.' 

'* '  Exactly.  Won't  you  have  the  secretary  of  your 
organisation  write  to  our  secretary  ' —  Billie,  mind 
you  — *  and  ask  for  an  appointment  and  we  will  be 
pleased  to  hear  you  when  we  can  reach  you  on  the 


104     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

calendar.1  And  there  sat  Billie  and  never  opened 
his  mouth." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

4  What  could  we  do?  They  asked  us  whom  we 
represented  —  they  intimated  we'd  better  go  and 
get  a  reputation  before  we  came  before  them 
again —  And  we're  going  to  get  it.  We're  going 
to  organise  an  Association  and  go  back.  That's 
what." 

The  school  had  already  furnished  the  impetus. 
The -few  leaders  confident  of  their  strength  and  sure 
of  their  position  with  relation  to  the  school  called  a 
meeting.  They  tried  to  get  the  schoolhouse  but  they 
were  too  impatient  to  wait  until  permission  was 
granted.  The  real  estate  man  offered  them  his 
corner  store  as  freely  as  he  had  offered  it  to  the 
grubby  gardeners.  The  people  came  not  on  tiptoes 
but  talking,  gesticulating,  protesting.  And  this  was 
the  beginning  of  the  parents'  organisation. 

Ill 

The  parents  wanted  frequent  meetings.  They 
were  impatient  to  get  to  work  to  see  things  done. 
But  the  school  law  provided  that  only  four  meetings 
a  year  could  be  granted. 

There  is  that  in  each  one  of  us  that  makes  us  an- 
tagonistic to  a  new  idea  —  to  a  new  point  of  view. 


The  Parents  at  Work  105 

We  have  been  happily  pursuing  our  course  and  some 
one  comes  along  and  suggests  that  perhaps  it  has  not 
been  the  best  one  in  the  world  and  maybe  his  is 
better. 

Our  first  impulse  is  to  brush  him  aside  —  bowl  him 
over  —  get  him  out  of  the  way,  anything  so  we  may 
be  comfortable  again. 

But  that  won't  do.  Society  won't  permit  it.  We 
must  listen  more  or  less  patiently  while  he  dins  his 
story  into  our  ears.  We  argue  the  matter  with  him, 
we  protest  loudly,  vigorously,  with  much  waving  of 
arms  and  stamping  of  feet. 

We  end  by  acknowledging  he  has  much  right  on 
his  side  and  if  he  had  only  said  that  long  ago  we 
should  have  understood  him  at  once  and  saved  much 
valuable  time. 

When  the  parents  therefore  asked  for  frequent 
use  of  the  building  the  School  Authorities  objected. 

"  No,  no,"  they  said.  "  It  isn't  done.  'Twould 
be  a  bad  precedent." 

The  association  urged  and  persisted. 
*  Yes,  we  know,  you're  respectable,  responsible 
citizens  but  you're  going  to  open  the  building  to  the 
public.  They'll  mar  the  furniture  and  damage  the 
building.  You  must  remember  the  school  was  built 
for  the  children.  We  must  protect  their  interests." 

"  But  we  are  the  parents  of  the  children  — "  came 
the  reminder. 


io6     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

1  Yes,  yes,  we  believe  you  to  be  perfectly  fine  peo- 
ple, but  you'd  better  hire  a  hall.  You  might  say 
things  we  would  not  like  to  stand  for.  We'll  let  you 
have  the  building  four  nights  a  year.  That's  very 
generous.  We  hope  you  won't  abuse  the  privilege." 

The  Association  was  not  satisfied  with  this  con- 
cession. However,  they  accepted  these  four  meet- 
ings and  when  they  wanted  more, —  and  they  did, — 
they  went  to  the  Real  Estate  store  or  to  the  candy 
shop  around  the  corner. 

Then  they  decided  that  what  the  school  needed 
was  direct  representation  in  the  Local  School  Board. 
No  member  of  the  Local  School  Board  had  a  child 
attending  our  school!  Small  wonder  they  did  not 
understand  the  parents'  requests. 

Neighbourhood  opinion  supported  the  idea  and 
soon  the  chairman  of  the  Executive  Committee  was 
appointed  on  the  Local  School  Board.  That  was  a 
great  step  forward,  a  strong  link  between  the  school 
workers  and  the  administration  group. 

The  parents  were  granted  the  use  of  the  building 
once  a  month  during  the  school  year  simply  because 
some  one  who  knew  was  on  hand  to  explain  the 
need. 

They  looked  forward  to  the  monthly  meetings 
when  matters  of  vital  interest  to  themselves  and  their 
children  were  discussed. 

These  points  were  always  carefully  selected  by 


The  Parents  at  Work  107 

the  Executive  Committee  months  ahead.  The 
speakers  were  secured  and  the  details  of  the  pro- 
gramme well  worked  up  so  that  the  meeting  pro- 
ceeded with  the  precision  and  efficiency  of  fine  organi- 
sation. 

The  usual  "  order  of  business  "  was  followed:  the 
various  committees  made  their  reports  which  were 
accepted  or  returned  for  further  work  as  the  cases 
demanded.  New  committees  for  new  work  were  ap- 
pointed and  then  the  audience  settled  back  to  hear 
the  special  topic  of  the  evening. 

The  Executive  Committee,  not  the  teachers, 
planned  a  health  meeting.  It  was  one  of  the  neigh- 
bours who  gave  the  talk. 

This  doctor  began  by  telling  us  that  the  public 
school  with  its  thousands  of  children  coming  from 
all  sorts  of  homes  was  apt  to  be  a  breeding  place  for 
all  sorts  of  contagious  and  infectious  diseases. 

In  simple  language  the  doctor  told  the  parents 
how  to  protect  their  children  from  the  contagious  or 
infectious  diseases,  how  to  recognise  the  first  symp- 
toms of  them.  His  points  were  illustrated  with 
slides,  the  best  of  their  kind. 

"  Only  by  utmost  care  and  vigilance,"  were  his  last 
words  "  exercised  by  the  school  people,  the  Board  of 
Health,  doctors  and  nurses  —  and  above  all  and  be- 
yond all  —  by  the  parents,  can  the  health,  the  lives 
even,  of  the  children  be  safeguarded." 


io8     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

The  idea  of  the  meetings  was  always  a  direct  ap- 
plication of  general  principles  to  the  immediate  prob- 
lems. If  we  talked  about  art  it  was  the  children1! 
art  with  the  children's  drawings  before  us.  If  we 
talked  about  play  it  was  our  children's  playground, 
our  streets  that  were  used.  We  made  no  attempt 
to  bring  in  outsiders  for  general  talks.  Our  work 
was  specific  and  always  had  for  its  outcome  some- 
thing to  do,  a  job,  a  concrete  thing.  So  much  be- 
gins and  ends  in  talk.  We  wanted  to  get  things 
done. 

Naturally  one  expression  of  the  group  feeling  was 
its  relief  work.  The  parents  wanted  to  help  the 
children,  the  neglected  children,  to  attend  and  to 
profit  by  their  school. 

A  standing  committee  was  formed.  Its  work  was 
to  investigate  cases  of  parental  neglect,  cases  of  need, 
cases  of  truancy.  These  were  simple  and  direct. 
They  could  be  attended  to  without  much  room  for 
argument.  There  was  usually  sufficient  information 
at  hand  to  insure  promptness  in  relief  work. 

Red  haired  Pat,  small  and  ill-kept,  did  not  attend 
school.  The  notices  sent  home  by  the  teacher  were 
unanswered.  If  a  teacher  called  there  was  no  one 
at  home. 

The  case  of  Pat  in  the  hands  of  the  parents  be- 
came a  simple  matter.  The  neighbours  knew  that 
the  father  drank  and  was  seldom  home.  He  had 


The  Parents  at  Work  109 

no  job.  The  mother  went  out  to  work  but  could 
not  make  enough  for  food  and  clothing.  Pat  needed 
clothes.  He  needed  food.  He  needed  medical 
care.  Pat  was  clothed,  fed,  had  his  teeth  fixed.  He 
was  kept  at  school  and  that  was  the  end  of  the  mat- 
ter. 

There  were  other  children  like  Pat  in  the  school, 
who,  for  want  of  proper  food  were  unable  to  go 
on  with  their  work;  there  were  children  who  be- 
cause they  lacked  proper  clothing  could  not  attend 
school;  there  were  children  who  because  proper 
medical  care  could  not  be  given  them  were  handi- 
capped in  their  progress. 

Physical  needs  were  not  new  to  the  people.  The 
ways  of  meeting  these  needs  were  not  new  to  them. 
What  was  new  was  the  group  meeting  these  needs 
because  it  was  their  business  to  help  their  neighbours. 
What  was  new  was  the  conscious  strength  that  came 
through  united  effort,  the  feeling  of  responsibility 
that  made  them  answer,  "  Yes,  I  am  my  brother's 
keeper,  because  he  is  my  brother." 

"  Help  me,"  was  as  natural  a  demand  as  its  an- 
swer, "  I  will." 

The  judgment  of  the  group  was  one  that  could 
generally  be  trusted.  They  loaned  money  to  a  fam- 
ily where  the  father  was  sick.  The  landlord  was 
about  to  dispossess  the  family,  the  store  keepers  re- 
fused further  credit.  The  relief  committee  loaned 


no     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

them  money,  the  family  returning  it  in  small  instal- 
ments when  times  were  better. 

One  of  the  members  of  the  committee  was  a 
clever,  grey  haired,  Yankee  lawyer.  He  was  very 
much  averse  to  anything  that  looked  like  charity  and 
he  had  been  placed  on  the  committee  to  act  as  a 
brake  on  their  generosity. 

41  Have  you  inquired  carefully  into  this  case?" 
he  would  ask,  balancing  his  eyeglasses  on  the  end 
of  his  sharp  forefinger.  "  Are  you  sure?  So  many 
cases  in  a  week  looks  queer  to  me.  Before  acting 
on  them  I'd  like  to  ask  for  further  investigation." 

"  Further  investigation !  That's  the  Charity  Bu- 
reau's cry  and  while  they  investigate  the  family 
starves  to  death.  No,  sir,  I  say  no.  Relieve  first 
and  investigate  last,"  this  from  Henry's  father,  who 
was  now  leader  of  the  group. 

"  Very  well,  but  you'll  get  stung.  Mark  my 
words.  You'll  get  stung!  " 

One  family  made  repeated  calls  for  help.  Gro- 
ceries, shoes,  medicine,  rent,  until  even  the  leader 
was  a  bit  worried  and  made  a  more  thorough  inves- 
tigation. 

When  the  final  report  was  presented  to  the  com- 
mittee it  revealed  that  many  parents  had  at  some 
time  or  other,  without  the  knowledge  of  the  others, 
contributed  money  or  food  or  clothes  to  these  peo- 
ple: that  two  large  charitable  organisations  in  the 


The  Parents  at  Work  in 

city  were  contributing  to  the  support  of  the  fam- 
ily in  mutual  ignorance  of  the  situation,  and  the 
crushing  fact  that  the  impostors  owned  valuable 
property. 

For  an  instant  there  was  tense  silence  and  then 
the  old  lawyer  jumped  up  —  and  pointing  his  fore- 
fingers at  the  leader  shouted  triumphantly  — 
"  Stung,  by  George.  Stung !  Didn't  I  tell  you ! 
Didn't  I  tell  you !  Stung!" 

Everybody  rocked  with  laughter,  but  an  investi- 
gator was  added  to  the  committee's  staff,  forthwith. 

To  make  this  sort  of  people  better  understand 
what  the  committee  was  trying  to  do  it  issued  the 
following  announcement :  "  Charity  is  not  the  pri- 
mary object  of  the  association.  We  are  not  here 
to  make  parents  careless  and  dependent.  Our  ob- 
ject is  to  help  children  and  this  we  try  to  do,  though 
in  helping  them  we  bring  pressure  to  bear  upon  the 
parents  to  help  their  own." 

Truancy  and  relief  were  intimately  related. 
When  a  case  of  chronic  absence  was  given  to  the 
attendance  officer  and  he  reported  "  poverty,"  the 
committee's  assistance  in  supplying  clothing  was 
often  sufficient  to  cure  truancy.  Sometimes  "  jobs  " 
had  to  be  found  for  the  working  members  of  the 
family.  This  was  done  repeatedly. 

Other  cases  of  truancy  were  not  so  simple.     It 


U2     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

was  no  easy  task  to  get  the  corner  boot  black,  big, 
ponderous,  fat,  to  come  puffing  into  the  school  build- 
ing, with  a  struggling,  kicking,  yelling  youngster, 
"  a  regular  truant "  he  had  found  on  the  street, 
secure  in  his  arms. 

Neither  was  it  easy  to  get  the  janitress  a  block 
away  to  send  her  children.  Only  the  persistent  daily 
visits  of  a  member  of  the  committee,  the  one  who 
brought  in  the  "  runner,"  could  succeed  here.  The 
attendance  officer,  stunned  by  the  number  and  va- 
riety of  excuses,  could  make  no  headway,  but  this 
woman,  convinced  that  the  children  must  attend 
school,  paid  daily  visits  to  this  family. 

Some  days  she  did  not  go  but  called  at  the  school 
or  sent  a  messenger.  In  case  her  particular  charges 
were  not  in  attendance  she  immediately  started  out, 
got  the  children  and  brought  them  to  school.  In 
the  face  of  such  persistence  there  was  only  one  way 
out,  the  children  had  to  come. 

The  object  of  the  association  was,  as  specifically 
stated,  to  co-operate  with  the  school  authorities,  to 
come  individually  and  collectively  into  contact  with 
the  school  so  that  the  highest  influence  of  heredity 
and  environment  could  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
education  of  the  children  —  in  short,  to  direct  the 
group  consciousness  upon  the  welfare  of  the  chil- 
dren. 


The  Parents  at  Work  113 

Soon  there  were  requests  for  information  as  to 
the  work  of  the  association.  The  president  of  the 
association,  our  garden  man,  felt  that  here  was  a 
new  idea. 

"  I  sent  out  three  hundred  copies  of  this  morn- 
ing's paper.  There  was  a  fine  account  of  our  work. 
Have  you  seen  it?  My  clerk  was  busy  all  day,  cut- 
ting, folding,  mailing. 

'  This  is  getting  to  be  a  big  thing,"  he  went  on. 
"  A  parents'  Association  in  every  school  1  That's 
a  big  idea.  I  have  been  thinking  of  it  for  some 
time.  What  do  you  think  of  making  a  statement  of 
policies?  " 

"  Splendid,"  I  answered,  encouraging  his  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  A  square  deal  for  the  children,"  he  announced 
vehemently,  "  means  more  parents'  associations,  a 
federation  of  parents'  associations,  co-operation  be- 
tween teachers  and  parents,  the  best  teachers  for  the 
elementary  school  and  for  the  youngest  children, 
the  masses,  more  schools,  and  smaller  classes." 

I  smiled  as  I  recognised  some  of  my  own  pet  the- 
ories. 

The  president  appointed  a  committee  to  answer 
questions  and  to  lend  every  assistance  in  their  power 
to  parents  who  desired  to  form  a  like  association  in 
their  school. 

We  are  all  preachers  by  nature.     We  get  an  idea 


U4     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

and  at  once  believe  it  is  the  most  important  idea  in 
the  world.  Then  like  true  reformers  we  launch  into 
the  campaign. 

The  danger  of  an  adult  association,  however,  lies 
not  in  this  pushing  enthusiasm  of  its  members.  The 
real  danger  comes  when  the  association  grows  into 
a  static,  fixed,  unyielding  thing,  itself  a  system.  Par- 
ents' Associations  in  the  city  are  not  apt  to  be  static. 
They  are  more  apt  to  be  fluid.  They  are  with  you 
one  year  and  away  the  next.  There  is  always  a 
group  coming  in  and  a  group  going  out.  They  are 
always  making  mistakes,  the  natural  mistakes  of  be- 
ginners. Their  work  is  a  constant  challenge  to  the 
intelligence  and  patience  of  the  school.  Dealing 
with  parents  in  the  interest  of  children  has  always 
seemed  to  me  like  handling  a  dynamic  factor,  one 
that  puts  power  and  soul  into  the  hands  of  the 
teacher  because  it  puts  power  and  soul  into  the  peo- 
ple. Socialising  the  school  means  humanising  the 
teacher. 

IV 

No  matter  how  many  people  moved  into  the 
neighbourhood,  no  matter  how  many  tenements  there 
were  or  how  full,  there  was  always  the  park.  When 
the  school  was  overwhelmed  with  children  we  looked 
out  on  the  park  and  said,  "  There  is  plenty  of  air 


The  Parents  at  Work  115 

and  sunshine,  there  are  plenty  of  trees,  and  shade 
and  grass."  When  the  streets  overflowed  there  was 
the  park  to  receive  the  overflow.  When  the  sum- 
mer nights  were  unbearable  there  was  the  park  to 
sleep  in.  It  was  always  there  smiling  in  the  sun- 
shine —  inviting  the  weary  crowd  to  come  out  and 
rest. 

But  behold,  one  morning  a  startled  parent  came 
into  school  saying,  "What  do  you  think  is  afoot? 
They  want  to  erect  an  armoury  in  the  park  and  use 
it  as  a  drill  ground.  This  must  not  be  allowed. 
We  need  the  park  for  ourselves  and  we  don't  want 
amateur  soldiers  about.  I  shall  ask  that  a  meeting 
of  the  executive  committee  of  the  Parents'  Associa- 
tion be  called  at  once." 

Two  nights  later  the  executive  committee  met  at 
the  president's  house.  The  fact  was  brought  out 
that  a  bill  setting  aside  a  portion  of  the  park  for 
an  armoury  had  been  introduced  in  the  legislature 
and  passed.  Time  was  precious.  The  civic  com- 
mittee was  appointed  with  full  power  to  act.  A 
meeting  of  the  whole  association  followed.  Then 
came  a  campaign,  petitions,  protests.  The  commit- 
tee appeared  before  the  Mayor  when  the  bill  was 
presented  for  his  approval  and  joining  forces  with 
other  park  lovers  secured  its  veto. 

Aside  from  saving  the  park  as  a  playground  for 
the  children,  the  group  realised  that  their  united 


u 6     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

strength  could  achieve  results  even  in  the  face  of 
powerful  political  interests. 

Two  years  later  there  was  a  second  attempt  at 
invasion.  One  morning  a  park  attendant  told  a 
neighbour  who  was  strolling  by  that  he  had  seen  a 
surveyor  about  and  that  a  surveyor  about  meant  a 
building.  The  neighbour  was  a  member  of  the  Ex- 
ecutive Committee  of  the  Parents'  Association.  At 
once  there  was  a  call,  the  school  committee  began 
to  investigate.  A  startling  discovery  was  made. 
Plans  had  been  drawn  for  a  firehouse  to  be  erected 
in  the  park,  the  money  appropriated  and  ground  was 
about  to  be  broken.  There  remained  but  one  small 
formality  —  the  location  of  the  building  on  the  part 
of  the  park  commissioner.  This  time  the  associa- 
tion was  ready.  This  time  there  was  a  united  neigh- 
bourhood to  appeal  to  and  a  People's  Neighbour- 
hood House  through  which  to  conduct  a  cam- 
paign. 

There  were  public  meetings  in  halls  hired  for  the 
purpose.  There  were  continued  meetings  at  the 
school,  the  settlement  house,  the  neighbourhood  dis- 
pensary. 

Then  the  parents'  association  called  into  play  — 
and  it  was  to  them  —  a  group  of  young  men,  none 
of  whom  was  more  than  twenty.  These  young  men 
belonged  to  the  school  group.  They  were  getting 
ready  to  take  part  in  the  group  activity  of  the  adults. 


The  Parents  at  Work  n? 

Here  was  their  opportunity.  They  helped  at  the 
open  meetings.  They  circulated  petitions.  They 
organised  groups  of  younger  boys  who  paraded 
through  the  streets  singing,  "  The  parks  must  be 
free,  the  parks  must  be  free  for  the  people." 

Sam,  their  leader,  short,  chunky,  aggressive  and 
deadly  in  earnest,  wrote  an  impassioned  letter  to 
the  Mayor  protesting  against  the  threatened  inva- 
sion and  calling  the  City  Fathers  to  strict  account 
for  it.  He  read  the  letter  to  the  club  who  enthu- 
siastically approved  it  and  ordered  it  mailed  forth- 
with. 

Eagerly  Sam  watched  the  mails  for  the  reply  and 
when  the  envelope  bearing  the  City  Hall  Crest  came 
he  tore  it  open  fully  expecting  a  thrilling  response 
from  the  famous  letter  writer.  He  got  it. 

Across  the  top  of  Sam's  own  letter  in  the  Mayor's 
neat  chirography  was  pencilled,  "  Who  but  a  mad- 
man heeds  what  a  madman  says?  "  W.  J.  G. 

The  shout  of  laughter  that  went  up  was  full  of 
joyful  appreciation  of  the  old  gentleman's  cleverness 
and  the  joke  on  Sam. 

After  many  months  the  city  authorities,  the  park 
commissioner  and  the  neighbourhood  agreed  upon 
a  compromise.  The  firehouse  was  put  elsewhere. 

Once  more,  aside  from  saving  the  park,  the  group 
realised  that  united  strength  could  achieve  results 
even  in  the  face  of  powerful  opposition. 


u8     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 


'  Tony  did  it,"  gasped  an  enraged  voice.  I  looked 
up.  Framed  in  the  office  door  stood  Mrs.  Mason 
in  a  sorry  state.  Tony,  in  one  of  his  tantrums  had 
vented  his  resentment  in  a  more  forceful  way  than 
usual.  Calling  names,  throwing  stones  would  not  do. 
Tony  had  utilised  the  ammunition  furnished  by  the 
pickle  barrel, —  the  pickled  onion,  the  scaly,  salty 
fish. 

Mrs.  Mason  appeared  reeking  from  the  fray. 
Onion  peels,  fish  scales,  coated  her  usually  immacu- 
late gown  and  the  odour  of  dill  was  strong  upon 
her. 

'  Tony  did  it.  I  want  you  to  punish  Tony.  He 
is  a  little  terror.  We  are  all  in  dread  of  him.  Just 
now  he  charged  into  my  shop,  pointed  a  penny  pis- 
tol in  my  face  and  shouted  at  me,  '  Money  or  your 
life!' 

"  When  I  started  after  him  he  grabbed  two  hand- 
fuls  of  candy,  knocked  over  the  paper  stand  so  I 
nearly  fell  over  it  and  made  out  of  the  door. 

"  I  chased  him  and  he  raced  into  Rachel's  fish 
store  and  this  is  what  he  did  to  me. 

"  If  I  get  him  I'll  spank  the  life  out  of  him.  His 
parents  don't  care.  He  gets  most  of  his  ideas  from 
the  movies.  Something  ought  to  be  done.  Teach 


The  Parents  at  Work  119 

these  boys  manners.  Now-a-days  children  have  no 
respect  for  older  people." 

Mrs.  Mason  sank  into  a  chair  and  suddenly  a 
ripple  of  laughter  crossed  her  face  and  she  said, 
"  We've  got  to  get  after  those  movies." 

Mrs.  Mason  was  a  member  of  the  Executive  Com- 
mittee and  for  hours  watched  the  bright  lights  of 
the  moving  picture  show  opposite  her  home.  She 
saw  the  children  playing  about  under  the  lights.  She 
saw  them  beg  to  be  taken  in.  She  saw  them  go  in 
unescorted.  She  talked  with  the  neighbours  about 
the  "  movie  show,"  about  the  mysterious,  dark  in- 
fluences at  work  to  undermine  the  children's  charac- 
ters. 

When  the  matter  finally  came  up  for  official  in- 
vestigation she  had  a  deal  of  information.  Then 
followed  an  investigation  of  many  picture  houses  in 
the  borough  and  of  all  picture  houses  in  the  school 
district. 

The  committee  visited  these  places  afternoons  and 
evenings.  Then  they  detailed  the  violations  of  law 
to  the  association.  The  association  decided  to  call 
a  meeting  of  the  managers  of  the  moving  picture 
houses.  They  came  resenting  the  call  and  yet  too 
cautious  to  stay  away. 

The  parents  who  had  looked  up  the  law  on  picture 
houses  explained  the  law,  described  the  violations 


no     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

in  each  place  that  had  been  visited.  They  asked 
each  manager  to  remedy  the  evils  of  presenting  poor 
pictures,  of  badly  lighted  places,  of  allowing  en- 
trance to  unescorted  children,  of  crowding  men 
and  women  and  children  without  regard  to  fire 
laws. 

Especially  indignant  was  the  father  of  two  little 
boys,  aged  nine  and  seven,  who  had  stayed  away 
from  school  and  had  taken  "  nickles  "  from  their 
mother's  purse  in  order  to  go  to  the  movie  show. 

The  parents  demanded  protection  against  condi- 
tions that  were  demoralising  to  the  children. 

One  of  the  managers  present  said,  "  You  can't 
close  up  my  place.  I  don't  care  if  you  do  take  me 
to  court;  the  most  that  can  happen  to  me  will  be  a 
fine.  I  can  afford  to  pay  a  fine  and  make  plenty  of 
money  besides." 

The  indignant  father  who  had  secured  evidence 
against  this  man,  presented  the  case  in  court.  He 
was  fined  fifty  dollars. 

A  week  later  a  second  fine  was  imposed  upon  the 
same  man.  In  two  weeks  his  house  had  to  close 
its  doors.  Not  only  had  the  owner  been  fined  but 
bulletins  had  been  issued  announcing  the  fact.  Pub- 
lic opinion  emptied  his  house. 

There  was  no  more  opposition  to  our  demands. 
We  were  asked  by  the  managers  to  visit  and  inspect 


The  Parents  at  Work 


121 


their  premises  and  their  pictures  and  to  make  sug- 
gestions for  the  betterment  of  both. 

The  Parents'  Association  had  become  a  power  for 
good  in  the  neighbourhood.  It  had  earned  the  con- 
fidence of  the  people. 


LIBRARY 

STA1E  NORMAL  SCM 
MANUAL  ARTS  AND  HUME  ECONOMICS 
SANTA  BARBARA,  CALIFORNIA 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   NEIGHBOURHOOD   IDEA    KEEPS   ON   GROWING 

I 

WHAT  the  children  needed  was  leadership  and 
direction. 

When  my  family  came  to  New  York,  I  lost  the 
companionship  of  open  fields,  grass,  trees,  flowers, 
sheep,  streams,  dark  castles  on  the  mountain  sides. 

In  their  places  were  flats,  dark  stairs,  and  streets 

—  paved  streets  with  trucks  and  boys  running  wild, 
empty  lots,  waste  heaps.     My  companionship  with 
nature  was  lost. 

What  a  change,  from  the  sunshine,  the  open  fields, 
the  folk  stories,  the  friends,  to  this  crowded  city  life ! 
And  yet  what  a  wonderful  place  is  a  city.  Here 
life  is  seething,  moving,  searching  it  knows  not  what 

—  fellowship?     Common  ideals? 

The  children  left  to  themselves  wandered  mysti- 
fied, guessed,  tried  first  this  thing  and  then  that,  and 
failed.  Few,  very  few,  through  some  fortunate  acci- 
dent, carried  the  dreams  of  their  fathers  into  their 
lives. 

122 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     123 

I  wandered  about  with  the  rest  of  the  children  do- 
ing what  we  saw  the  older  boys  doing.  Too  young 
to  find  work  for  ourselves  we  imitated  those  who 
were  experienced  enough  to  turn  to  their  own  uses 
what  the  empty  lots  and  paved  streets  offered. 

We  played  with  pennies  until  the  older  ones  took 
them  from  us.  We  used  bad  language  because  the 
older  ones  used  bad  language.  We  smoked  for  the 
same  reason.  We  took  what  was  on  the  vender's 
wagon  because  the  older  ones  praised  us  for  doing 
it.  We  fought  with  our  fists  because  the  older  ones 
encouraged  us. 

The  streets  and  the  boys  who  owned  the  streets 
were  our -masters.  They  did  the  training.  Our 
parents  worried  and  wondered.  They  punished  us 
when  they  caught  us.  We  learned  to  deceive,  to 
cheat,  to  lie,  to  fight. 

Through  all  this  there  was  never  a  word  of  school. 
School  had  nothing  to  do  with  living  and  we  were 
busy  living. 

When  we  grew  older  we  formed  our  own  little 
club  and  held  meetings  in  a  corner  of  the  cellar 
where  no  one  could  intrude.  We  built  a  theatre  in 
one  of  the  cellar  store  rooms.  We  took  boards 
from  the  buildings  and  made  benches.  We  searched 
for  discarded  mats  and  carpets.  We  ripped  the 
"  thriller  ads  "  off  the  fences  and  pasted  them  on  the 
walls  of  our  theatre.  We  made  a  stage  and  a  cur- 


124     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

tain  and  gave  our  plays.  What  we  needed  to  satisfy 
our  dramatic  instincts  was  leadership  and  a  clean 
place. 

The  cellar  walls  of  an  abandoned  building  made 
our  playground.  We  stayed  home  from  school  and 
sailed  planks  on  the  water  that  had  gathered  between 
the  decaying  walls.  We  hopped  from  wall  to  wall, 
across  openings,  at  the  risk  of  life  and  limb.  We 
fell  into  dirty  water  and  made  a  fire  to  dry  our 
clothes.  We  went  home  only  when  we  felt  we  had 
to  because  we  feared  punishment.  When  we  were 
late,  we  relied  on  our  mothers  to  shield  us.  This 
was  all  bad  for  us,  terribly  bad.  It  was  a  life  of 
chance  with  the  chances  all  against  us.  What  we 
needed  to  satisfy  our  play  instincts  was  leadership 
and  open  spaces. 

Where  these  cellars  stood  twenty-five  years  ago, 
there  are  rows  upon  rows  of  flat  houses,  with  stores 
and  stables,  and  saloons  and  factories. 

Many  crimes  have  been  committed  in  the  spot 
where  we  played  truant  from  school.  It  was  bad 
for  us  twenty-five  years  ago.  It  is  worse  for  the 
children  of  to-day  who  must  contend  not  against  an 
indifferent,  passive  environment,  but  against  an  ag- 
gressive, sinful,  depressing,  fearful  environment. 

Many  times  I  have  heard  people  say  that  the 
children  who  had  it  in  them  to  become  good  men  and 
women  would  become  good  men  and  women,  and 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     125 

children  who  had  it  in  them  to  be  bad  would  become 
bad.  My  experience  has  been  different.  I  have 
seen  perfectly  fine  boys  go  wrong  through  no  fault  of 
theirs.  The  school  had  driven  them  out  and  the 
home  did  not  know  what  to  do.  I  have  seen  beauti- 
ful natures  with  a  passion  for  fine  things,  become 
discouraged,  perverted,  lost,  and  through  no  fault 
of  theirs.  The  home  was  powerless  to  help.  The 
school  did  not  understand. 

What  we  needed  as  children  was  some  one  to 
show  the  way.  Some  one  who  knew  us  and  valued 
us.  Some  one  who  would  live  with  us  and  for  us. 

What  we  needed  as  children,  children  still 
need. 

The  teachers  and  I  conscious  of  the  dangers  that 
come  to  an  active  child  from  a  random  seeking  to 
satisfy  his  desires,  tried  to  make  the  people  whose 
children  were  about  us  realise  their  responsibility 
while  we  ourselves  did  our  share.  We  knew  the 
children  needed  the  older  folk.  We  knew  that  we 
had  only  limited  means  of  gathering  and  holding 
these  young  people  together.  All  we  had  was  the 
school  and  we  were  fast  losing  that  except  as  a  drill 
machine  running  eight  hours  a  day  during  which  time 
two  schools  in  turn  tried  to  master  the  prescribed 
book  facts. 

An  eager  little  group  of  children  waited  at  the 
door  to  speak  to  me  as  I  left  the  school  one  after- 


126     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

noon.  I  recognised  the  leader  in  one  of  the  school 
plays. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  began  after  an  exchange  of 
greetings;  "do  you  know  that  the  Dramatic  Club 
can't  meet  any  more?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said.     "  I'm  very  sorry  about  it." 

"  But  what  are  we  going  to  do?  "  and  the  anxious 
little  faces  pressed  closer  to  me.  "  We've  no  place 
to  go.  We  can't  give  it  up,"  the  little  fellow 
pleaded. 

"  I  don't  know  what  we're  going  to  do,  son.  The 
school  is  so  crowded  that  we  have  to  let  two  classes 
take  turns  in  using  a  room  so  each  room  is  used  all 
day  long.  I'm  trying  to  find  some  way  out  for 
you." 

"  We'll  stay  after  school  hours  as  we  used  to  do." 

"  I  don't  think  it  would  be  right.  You  could  not 
have  a  room  until  half-past  four  and  it's  too  late 
then  and  the  teachers  are  tired.  When  the  other 
new  school  opens  there  will  be  more  room  and  we 
can  begin  again." 

The  school,  after  all,  narrowing  down  to  routine, 
was  such  a  far-away  place,  far  away  from  the  actual 
lives  of  people.  How  could  we  get  close,  so  close 
to  each  other  that  we  would  be  part  of  the  people 
and  they  a  part  of  us,  and  be  "  folksy  "  together? 

A  woman  I  knew  of  began  by  going  into  the 
crowded  streets.  She  started  in  the  spring,  when 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     127 

the  houses  were  emptied  of  the  children  and  the 
streets  were  filled  with  their  shouts,  their  games, 
their  squabbles. 

She  arrived  at  the  same  time  each  afternoon. 
She  began  by  going  from  one  group  of  little  mothers 
to  another  and  helping  them  with  their  sewing.  To 
some  she  loaned  books,  to  others  she  told  stories 
that  were  found  in  books.  The  boys  were  helped 
with  their  games.  By  and  by  there  were  excursions. 

The  summer  came  and  passed.  School  opened 
and  when  these  children  returned  they  were  a  little 
different  from  what  they  had  been.  They  were  bet- 
ter, less  selfish,  cleaner,  in  spite  of  the  vacation. 

The  cold  weather  came  and  it  was  evident  that  the 
street  meetings  would  soon  have  to  stop. 

Nobody  had  any  money.  There  was  a  stranded 
old  house  on  the  block.  No  one  lived  in  it.  No  one 
wanted  to  live  in  it.  The  "  Street  Lady "  called 
upon  the  owner  and  got  the  use  of  the  house  for  the 
asking.  There  was  no  furniture,  no  heat,  no  light- 
ing. But  they  began. 

Bits  of  matting  and  cast-off  carpets,  chairs  with- 
out backs,  chairs  without  seats,  anything  that  could 
be  made  of  service  the  children  seized  and  carried 
to  their  house.  Pictures,  pictures  out  of  magazines 
and  newspapers,  advertisements,  moving  picture 
idols  were  cut  out  and  were  pasted  on  the  walls. 

An  old  stove  was  fed  by  the  boys  who  brought 


A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

wood  to  heat  the  place.  The  library  was  a  packing 
case.  The  books  were  just  books,  torn,  dirty,  dog- 
eared, battle-scarred  by  long  and  rough  usage.  But 
the  books,  the  house,  and  all  about  it  belonged  to  the 
children. 

Could  we  build  such  a  place  where  the  boys  and 
the  girls  would  work  together,  plan  together,  live 
together,  grow  together? 

We  felt  that  it  would  be  good  for  our  children  to 
have  a  house  of  their  own  to  go  to  when  they  felt 
inclined.  We  felt  that  it  would  be  good  for  the 
parents  of  the  children  to  have  a  house  that  was  dif- 
ferent from  a  school  because  its  atmosphere  was  of 
hospitality;  where  the  seats  were  ordinary  chairs 
that  invited  one  to  sit  and  relax;  the  rooms,  ordinary 
rooms  cluttered  with  delightful  evidences  of  human 
occupancy;  the  people  ordinary  people  who  could 
chat  about  every  day  things;  the  ways  of  living,  the 
ordinary  ways  of  living;  and  the  doors  opened  be- 
cause they  couldn't  find  it  in  their  hearts  to  stay 
shut. 

Our  personal  interest  in  the  adults  was  always 
secondary.  We  worked  with  them  because  we  could 
get  no  results  if  we  ignored  them.  Our  primary  in- 
terest was  the  child.  What  we  sought  was  com- 
plete living  for  him. 

The  most  popular  meeting  place  for  the  parents 
had  not  been  the  school  but  the  Hall.  This  was  a 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     129 

great  bare  room  in  back  of  the  candy  shop,  where 
we  were  welcome  any  time, —  a  most  convenient  ar- 
rangement when  a  meeting  had  to  be  called  at  short 
notice. 

In  the  Hall  we  held  our  annual  dinners.  The 
food  was  cooked  by  the  mothers  in  their  own  kitchens 
and  taken  to  the  Hall.  The  neighbours  loaned  the 
chairs  for  the  diners.  On  these  occasions  the  cellar 
was  dressed  up  for  a  reception  room  and  a  very  ac- 
ceptable one  it  made. 

It  was  a  wonderful  spirit  that  could  work  and  hold 
a  group  of  people  together  under  such  conditions. 
The  people  were  big  and  strong  and  united.  There 
was  always  the  promise  of  bigger  things  to  come. 
What  change  might  the  next  day  bring?  When 
people  are  sacrificing,  striving,  they  forget  to  think 
of  themselves.  They  think  of  the  idea  only,  and  the 
idea  marches  on. 

Many  conferences  were  held  in  the  Hall.  We 
discussed  again  and  again  the  need  of  a  settlement. 
We  needed  leaders  who  would  make  it  their  busi- 
ness to  live  with  the  problems  of  the  people,  with  the 
problems  of  the  children.  The  only  way  to  get  these 
leaders  was  through  the  establishment  of  a  settle- 
ment. 

Our  friends'  sympathies  were  enlisted  and  through 
their  generosity  a  settlement  house  was  founded. 
The  house  selected  was  a  mansion  set  on  a  big  plot 


130     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

of  grass  with  shade  trees.  The  apartment  houses 
towering  on  all  sides  of  it  had  driven  the  owners 
away.  They  were  glad  to  find  a  market  for  it. 

Some  repairs  and  alterations  were  necessary  be- 
fore the  house  could  be  used.  Who  was  to  take 
charge  while  the  workmen  were  busy  —  and  how 
could  we  use  the  lawn  and  shade  trees  at  once  for 
the  little  children? 

We  had  overlooked  my  father.  He  had  come 
into  the  school  every  now  and  then,  looked  about, 
stayed  an  hour  or  two,  smiled  and  gone  home. 

Now  that  there  was  work  to  do,  he  put  his  cot  in 
one  of  the  rooms,  and  had  his  meals  sent  in.  To 
him  the  settlement  like  the  school  meant  a  place  for 
children.  As  soon  as  he  appeared  they  gathered 
about  him.  Slowly,  softly  he  smiled  and  told  them 
stories,  and  then  more  stories.  He  spoke  in  broken 
English,  and  in  gestures,  but  the  children  understood. 
Again  Crusaders  marched;  again  the  goblins  grinned 
in  unsuspected  places  in  this  house  of  dark  rooms, 
plaster,  paints,  papers,  windows,  boards,  packed 
furniture.  Once  more  he  was  a  soldier  on  his 
charger,  and  once  more  little  children  listened  and 
adored. 

At  night  favoured  ones  were  allowed  to  come  and 
stay  with  him.  They  came  bringing  their  blankets. 
His  one  steady  companion  was  a  child  on  crutches 
who  followed  Father  all  about  the  lawn  and  the 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     131 

house.     The  two  had  long  intimate  talks  and  many, 
many  laughs. 

During  the  day  the  baby  carriages  rolled  in  over 
the  lawn  and  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  and  the 
small  boys  actually  hushed  themselves  that  the  baby 
brothers  and  sisters  might  sleep. 

Early  one  day  in  that  first  summer  the  calm  was 
broken  by  a  voice  shrieking:  "  It's  fierce.  Soup 
meat  for  twenty-two  cents.  How  can  poor  people 
live?"  It  was  Ruth's  voice  and  a  teacher  hurried 
toward  the  rapidly  growing  knot  of  people  about 
her.  A  flourish  with  a  little  stick  toward  the  audi- 
ence pointed  the  question. 

"  Sure,  sure  —  that  is  right,"  they  murmured. 
"  And  chicken !  Full  of  sands  their  insides  are  and 
for  that  thirty-two  cents.  The  thieves,  the  mur- 
derers, they'll  starve  us !  "  Fiercer  plunges  with  the 
little  stick  and  more  assenting  murmurs. 

The  crowd  began  to  warm  up.  The  teacher  tried 
to  edge  closer  to  the  speaker. 

Now  Ruth  broke  into  Yiddish,  still  carrying  the 
crowd  with  her,  at  the  end  of  her  sharp  little  stick 
and  sharper  little  tongue. 

Then  in  unmistakable  English  she  called  out, 
"  Come,  stand  up,  we'll  break  their  windows, 
we'll  — " 

Now  thoroughly  alarmed,  the  teacher  pushed  close 


I32     A  Schoolmaster. of  the  Great  City 

to  Ruth.  Immediately  her  face  broke  into  smiles, 
"  Ah,  here's  our  school.  They'll  help  us,"  and  Ruth 
poured  out  her  story. 

"  Bring  your  friends  over  to  the  House,  Ruth, 
and  we'll  talk  it  over  there." 

Led  by  "  the  school "  and  Ruth,  the  group 
marched  over  to  the  House  and  the  first  of  numerous 
meetings  were  held  on  the  meat  strike. 


As  time  passed  the  clubs  began  to  voice  the  need 
that  the  school  had  voiced  so  many  times  before  the 
need  for  play  space. 

Twice  the  school,  its  people  and  its  teachers  had 
secured  a  temporary  summer  playground  in  the  park 
opposite  the  school.  Twice  when  the  playground 
had  been  removed,  they  were  disappointed.  Then 
the  settlement  and  the  school  decided  that  the  time 
had  come  to  secure  a  permanent  playground.  A 
conference  was  called  at  the  settlement,  to  which  the 
city  officials  came.  A  playground  in  front  of  the 
school  was  demanded.  We  wanted  an  organised 
playground  conducted  by  a  teacher,  one  who  knew 
how  to  lead  children  to  play. 

We  were  all  familiar  with  free  play,  absolute  free 
play,  digging  about  in  ash  heaps,  pouring  dirty  water 
from  one  mud  hole  to  another,  fights,  pulling  the 
pedlar's  pack,  baseball  where  the  older  took  what 
they  needed  from  the  younger.  We  wanted  a  super- 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     133 

vised  playground,  where  the  various  group  activities 
were  controlled  by  an  idea  and  where  sportsmanship 
and  not  force  held  sway. 

Twice  the  school  had  tried  and  failed,  twice  it  had 
succeeded  only  partially;  now  hand  in  hand  with 
the  settlement  and  a  public-spirited  park  commis- 
sioner, we  succeeded  in  securing  a  permanent  play- 
ground for  the  use  of  the  neighbourhood  children. 
We  were  all  sure  of  a  place  at  last  where  the  boys 
who  wanted  to  play  could  go  and  be  free  to  shout,  to 
compete,  to  win,  to  lose,  to  breathe  deeply  and  to 
drink  in  the  sunshine  and  the  wind. 

The  settlement,  seeing  as  the  school  had  seen  that 
language  difficulty  was  one  cause  of  separation  be- 
tween parents  and  children,  began  the  work  of 
teaching  mothers  English.  Each  morning  a  group 
of  mothers  gathered  in  one  of  the  club  rooms.  The 
babies  were  left  in  the  game  room  in  charge  of  a 
house  leader,  and  the  mothers  laboriously  prepared 
to  go  through  simple  English  exercises. 

Some  day  the  school  itself  will  bridge  over  the 
gap  that  exists  between  English  speaking  children 
and  non-English  speaking  parents,  by  helping  the 
children  to  teach  the  parents  in  the  school  building 
itself  and  during  school  hours. 

Each  month  ten  thousand  children,  men,  women 
of  all  ages,  went  in  and  out  of  the  settlement  house. 
Music,  drawing,  sewing,  civic  clubs,  athletic  clubs, 


134     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

literary  clubs,  occupied  all  the  space  there  was. 
Michael  and  his  mother  were  there.  So  were  the 
Flannigans  and  their  group.  We  looked  upon  the 
settlement  as  a  moving,  living  force  whose  idea  was 
one  of  service  and  not  of  power.  Free  from  tradi- 
tion, we  felt  that  it  would  be  the  neighbourhood 
social  experimental  station,  finding  out,  working  out, 
and  then  beginning  again,  never  stopping  long 
enough  to  standardise.  We  felt  it  would  always 
be  open  hearted  because  it  prided  itself  on  the  big- 
ness of  the  new  opportunities.  Through  it  the  peo- 
ple would  be  drawn  together  more  closely  and  neigh- 
bourhood idealism  result.  It  gave  us  the  hope  that 
some  day  the  school  itself  would  be  a  bigger  thing 
than  it  had  ever  been  before. 

II 

Many  new  children  were  admitted  to  the  school 
in  the  spring.  They  came,  they  stayed  till  the  cold 
weather  and  then  went  away. 

4  This  is  a  shifting  population,"  said  my  friend 
the  real  estate  man.  "  It's  better  than  it  was  but  it's 
still  bad.  They  are  beginning  to  settle  however. 
They  don't  change  as  much  as  they  used  to.  Why, 
of  the  fifty-two  flat  houses  I  have  charge  of,  twenty- 
eight  were  empty,  completely  empty  from  October 
to  May.  When  they  come  they  want  a  month's 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     135 

rent  free.     When  they  go  they  forget  to  pay  the  last 
month's  rent.     I  wish  they  would  stop  moving." 

*'  So  do  I.  Our  changes  of  class  registers  are  tre- 
mendous. Some  years  our  transfer  figures  are 
larger  than  our  register." 

'  They'll  stop  soon,"  he  added.  "  They  come  up 
from  the  crowded  East  Side.  They  move  up  here 
for  the  summer  season  to  get  the  air.  In  fall  they 
have  been  in  the  habit  of  returning  to  their  winter 
quarters.  You  see,  there  are  two  parks  here  and 
plenty  of  open  lots.  These  folks  can't  afford  to  go 
to  the  country  so  they  come  here.  A  great  many  of 
them  are  sick,  too.  Go  through  the  park  in  the 
morning  and  see  the  men  and  women  on  the  benches. 
Some  of  them  are  tubercular;  all  of  them  need  fresh 
air." 

This  then  was  the  reason  that  the  school  kept  the 
local  doctors  busy,  that  we  were  not  satisfied  with  the 
little  that  the  Board  of  Health  doctor  and  nurse 
could  do  and  had  begun  to  group  our  doctor  friends 
into  departments  —  nerve  doctors,  eye  doctors,  and 
the  rest.  This  was  the  reason  for  the  increase  in 
our  classes  for  atypical  children,  the  anaemic  children, 
for  groups  of  children  with  special  defects,  bad  feet, 
bad  speech,  bad  spines,  bad  eyes. 

But  what  had  this  to  do  with  us?  We  had  been 
trained  as  teachers,  not  as  doctors.  Why  should  we 
use  time  and  energy  that  should  be  given  to  the 


136     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

three  R's,  and  allow  children  to  rest,  to  sleep,  to  do 
special  physical  exercises  in  the  school? 

Whatever  has  to  do  with  the  growth  of  the  child 
has  to  do  with  the  teacher.  No  one  can  teach  a  sick 
child.  It  cannot  be  done.  The  building,  the  equip- 
ment, the  books,  the  teacher,  are  all  wasted  on  the 
sick  child.  A  sound  mind  rarely  dwells  in  a  sick 
body. 

The  local  doctors  had  been  giving  their  services 
freely  and  gladly  as  the  school  needed  them.  They 
had  been  ahead  of  the  parents  in  their  service  be- 
cause their  contribution  was  definite  and  could  be 
made  any  time  they  were  called  upon.  But  as  there 
was  no  hospital  near  the  school  where  the  people 
could  take  their  children  for  treatment,  a  great  many 
times  children's  ailments  were  allowed  to  go  unat- 
tended because  the  distance  to  the  nearest  hospital 
was  too  great. 

The  examination  and  care  of  abnormal  children, 
always  a  difficult  problem,  had  been  a  severe  drain 
upon  the  school,  because  the  institutions  that  could 
help  were  far  from  home.  The  teachers  gave  their 
afternoons  and  Saturdays  to  this  work  but  even  that 
was  not  sufficient. 

I  saw  the  doctors  grouped,  and  the  people  help- 
ing, and  I  realised  that  the  school  was  already  build- 
ing its  hospital.  What  was  needed  was  its  concrete 
embodiment  as  an  institution.  The  people,  and  the 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     137 

doctors  secured  a  charter  from  the  state  authorities 
and  began  work  at  once  by  opening  a  dispensary. 

Shortly  after  the  dispensary  opened  a  Russian 
Jew  presented  himself  at  the  office  in  school.  He 
was  very  much  afraid  of  intruding  but  he  had  some- 
thing to  say  that  had  to  be  said,  he  explained,  hold- 
ing out  a  strong,  white  hand  and  smiling  across  at 
me  with  the  kindliest  brown  eyes  imaginable. 

Wondering,  I  placed  a  chair  and  waited  for  his 
story.  He  laid  aside  his  big  soft  hat  and  little  black 
bag. 

"  You  open  a  hospital,  my  friend?  "  he  said.  "  I 
am  a  doctor.  I  would  help." 

I  was  about  to  explain  that  he  must  apply  to  the 
Board  of  Directors,  but  he  checked  me  and  went  on. 

"  We  are  Russian  doctors  —  me  and  my  wife. 
We  lived  in  a  little  town  in  Russia.  Always  we 
worked  for  the  sick.  No  difference,  Jew  or  Gen- 
tile. From  morning  till  night,  all  night  when  they 
needed  us,  we  worked  for  them.  If  they  could  pay 
it  was  good.  If  they  could  not,  it  was  alike  good. 

"  When  we  did  not  think  of  trouble  it  came.  They 
rushed  to  kill  us.  Even  the  sick  people  we  worked 
for  —  they  came  to  kill  us.  I  pushed  my  wife  in 
the  cellar,  I  fight,  then  I  hide.  See  this  scar  on  my 
hand  —  that  I  get  from  Russia. 

"  By  and  by  we  make  our  way  to  France,  then  to 
America.  America  gave  us  a  home,  it  gave  us  work. 


138     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

Now  we  want  to  pay  back  some  little.  We  want  to 
work  for  the  sick  children  under  the  flag. 

"  In  Russia  I  learned  to  cure  the  lame  children. 
Show  me  some.  I  am  a  —  how  you  say  in  English 
—  a  masseur  doctor." 

We  set  him  to  work  and  his  energy  and  enthusiasm 
were  wonderful. 

One  day  he  caught  my  arm  as  I  passed  his  room 
in  the  dispensary.  His  face  was  transfigured,  the 
tears  shone  in  his  eyes  as  he  dragged  me  in. 

"  See,  my  friend,  see,  he  walks.  The  little  fel- 
low, he  walks  again.  I  have  made  it  so,  I  am  like 
your  Jesus  Christ  —  I  make  him  walk  again,  the  lit- 
tle fellow.  I  am  so  happy." 


Within  three  years  after  I  had  come  to  "  My 
School,"  another  school  had  opened  its  doors.  But 
still  we  were  all  overcrowded.  We  demanded  ad- 
ditional room.  The  classes  increased  in  size  and 
number.  We  asked  for  more  schools  and  waited. 
But  there  was  no  relief.  It  was  always  in  the  com- 
ing. There  were  conferences,  there  were  petitions, 
there  were  public  meetings,  there  were  local  news- 
paper demands,  there  were  letters  aplenty,  all  deal- 
ing with  the  need  for  additional  school  accommoda- 
tions. Temporary  quarters  were  rented.  But 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     139 

these  were  of  little  help.  When  the  movement  of 
population  sets  in  a  certain  direction,  there  is  no 
help ;  at  least  no  ordinary  help  will  do. 

The  president  of  the  Parents'  Association,  who 
had  been  the  most  insistent  person  on  school  accom- 
modations, headed  a  church  committee  and  with  the 
aid  of  our  real  estate  man  secured  property  on  the 
northern  edge  of  the  school  district  and  began  a 
school  building  for  which  the  people  belonging  to 
the  church  furnished  the  funds. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  over  the  plans  of  the  building 
with  me,"  he  told  me  one  day  as  he  came  into  the 
office  with  a  roll  of  papers  under  his  arm. 

'  There  are  to  be  sixteen  classrooms,  and  an  audi- 
torium accommodating  four  hundred,  with  regular 
auditorium  seats,  not  the  desks  we've  had  to  use 
here  —  No  more  knee  cramping,  no  more  sitting 
doubled  up  when  we  hold  our  Parents'  Association 
meetings.  There  will  be  a  fine  stage  for  dramatic 
work.  In  the  cellar  a  large  gymnasium  is  planned 
and  the  children  can  use  the  swimming  pool.  It  is 
already  in  the  building,  marble,  with  filtered  water. 
It  is  planned  to  have  a  roof  playground  in  addition. 
The  library  is  across  the  street.  This  will  be  a  fine 
building.  I  have  tried  to  put  in  it  everything  you 
have  been  telling  us  a  school  should  have.  There 
is  room  for  shops,  and  a  music  room.  It  will  be 
finished  in  two  years." 


140     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

"  Those  arc  fine  plans,"  I  said.  "  Your  pastor  is 
a  first  rate  architect.  The  whole  thing  is  wonder- 
ful. We  are  a  lucky  neighbourhood.  Only  yester- 
day the  park  commissioner  gave  us  a  plot  for  a  gar- 
den in  the  park.  It  is  located  near  the  pond.  And 
about  four  months  ago  a  lady  came  and  talked  over 
the  project  of  opening  up  a  children's  nursery.  She 
has  already  secured  a  house  not  far  from  your  pro- 
posed building." 

IV 

When  the  over-large  school  recognised  its  social 
limitations  and  possibilities,  it  recognised  also  the 
need  of  a  home  visitor,  a  woman  experienced  in  the 
ways  of  the  world,  who  knew  things  that  a  young 
teacher  could  not  possibly  know,  who  could  grasp  the 
neighbourhood  problems  and  handle  them  most  ef- 
fectively. 

The  Henry  Street  Nurses'  Settlement  had  a  branch 
in  our  district.  Now  and  then  the  teachers  had  come 
across  the  nurses  in  their  visits  to  the  home.  The 
teacher  had  gone  to  ask  about  a  neglected  child,  the 
nurse,  to  see  the  child's  sick  mother.  Many  times 
the  teacher  and  nurse  worked  together.  When  the 
school  needed  a  home  visitor  because  the  teachers 
were  too  tired  and  the  work  become  too  heavy, 
the  nurse  suggested  a  woman  "  who  had  years  of 
experience  in  meeting  the  people's  problems." 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     141 

"  Thus  Aunt  Margaret  "  came  to  us.  We  begged 
money  for  her  salary.  Those  who  gave  it  were  our 
neighbours,  the  people  with  whom  and  for  whom 
she  would  have  to  work. 

The  machinery  of  Aunt  Margaret's  department 
was  simple.  The  human  quality  of  it  kept  it  and 
made  it  so.  A  little  pasteboard  box  that  suggested 
shoes,  and  a  little  black  bag  that  suggested  efficiency 
were  about  all  that  was  visible  —  and  of  course 
"  Aunt  Margaret."  In  the  black  bag  were  the  rec- 
ords of  the  cases  for  the  day,  and  a  list  of  all  the 
children's  welfare  agencies,  addresses  and  telephone 
calls,  a  street  directory,  a  note  book  and  pencil,  a 
handkerchief,  a  change  purse  and  some  chocolate  for 
children.  All  very  simple  and  very  human  and  most 
efficient. 

The  first  day  Aunt  Margaret  appeared,  a  teacher 
came  into  the  office  looking  very  dejected.  She  had 
made  a  visit  to  the  home  of  a  child  whose  appear- 
ance indicated  extreme  neglect  and  the  mother  had 
ordered  her  out.  The  family  lived  in  a  basement. 
The  teacher  had  knocked  and  entered.  The  mother 
met  her  silently.  Her  clothes  were  unsightly  and 
the  condition  of  the  rooms  was  desperate.  Scarcely 
anything  was  clean.  The  teacher  at  once  had  begun 
to  explain  to  the  parent  that  her  child  needed  wash- 
ing, needed  clothes,  and  that  a  mother  should  not  be 
so  careless  as  to  permit  the  child  to  go  to  school  in 


14*     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

such  a  disgraceful  condition.  Whereupon  the  par- 
cnt  had  upbraided  the  teacher  for  coming  to  her 
house  to  find  fault. 

"  You  have  no  right,"  she  had  said,  "  to  come  here 
and  talk  about  mine  kid.  Mind  your  own  business. 
Teach  mine  kid  and  leave  her  clothes  alone.  What 
do  you  know  about  mine  troubles,  with  your  fur  coat 
and  your  feathers  in  your  hat?  Go  away." 

And  the  teacher  had  come  back  to  school  and 
poured  forth  a  tirade  against  home  visits  and  against 
superiors  that  required  home  visits  and  against  the 
school  that  encouraged  such  visits. 

Aunt  Margaret  took  up  the  story  and  the  job. 

"How  do  you  do  this  morning?  The  teacher 
told  me  you  weren't  feeling  very  well  so  I  just  ran 
over  to  see  you.  How's  the  little  girl?  "  she  asked. 
"  Now  don't  disturb  yourself.  Sit  right  down  on 
that  chair.  I'll  get  one  for  myself." 

Before  she  knew  what  was  happening  to  her  the 
woman  found  herself  in  the  most  comfortable  chair 
in  the  room  and  **  Aunt  Margaret "  waiting  upon 
her. 

"  My  mother  was  ill  a  long  time  before  I  lost  her 
and  I  learned  how  to  make  her  more  comfortable. 
She  used  to  like  to  have  me  brush  her  hair.  She  said 
it  rested  her,"  Aunt  Margaret  chatted  amiably. 
Her  hands  were  already  fumbling  about  among  the 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     143 

sick  woman's  hairpins  and  during  the  brushing  proc- 
ess the  two  became  very  confidential. 

"  Are  you  from  the  school  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  belong  to  it.  The  teacher  told  me  you 
were  sick,"  said  Aunt  Margaret. 

"  Such  a  fresh  teacher !  She  comes  in  and  says 
mine  kid  is  dirty  and  I  should  shame  myself.  Mine 
God  —  I  have  such  a  sore  on  mine  leg  and  mine  arm 
that  I  can't  move.  I  pull  mine  hair  like  crazy." 

"  But  the  teacher  didn't  know  that,"  interposed 
the  visitor. 

"  Sure  she  don't.  Then  for  why  she  makes  a  face 
at  mine  kid  and  says  she  is  too  dirty  to  be  by  the 
other  kids.  She's  got  no  sores  nor  no  kids  neither. 
Like  a  grand  lady  she  is  with  her  high  heels  and 
feathers  and  powder  on  her  nose.  Never  she  come 
here  again,  I  quick  slam  the  door  in  her  face.  The 
fresh  thing !  " 

"  Have  you  had  the  doctor?  "  asked  Aunt  Mar- 
garet. 

"  Yes,  once  I  go  by  the  doctor  and  he  say,  *  My 
dear  woman,  you  must  go  to  the  hospital.  You  can't 
pay  me  for  this  job.  It  cost  you  a  hundred  dollars 
maybe.'  How  can  I  go  to  hospital?  They  will  not 
take  mine  kid  and  the  society  will  get  her.  Maybe  I 
lose  mine  husband.  He  not  come  by  me  in  hos- 
pital." 


144     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

"  I  know  a  good  doctor  who  will  come  and  see 
you  right  here.  He  belongs  to  the  school  like  me, 
and  he  will  take  care  of  you  for  nothing,"  and  the 
deft  fingers  put  in  the  last  hairpin. 

"  Maybe  he  say  for  nothing  and  then  charge  me 
big  money,"  and  suspicion  looked  out  of  her  eyes 
for  an  instant. 

"No,  he  won't.  He  isn't  like  that.  Now  I'll 
get  the  little  girl  ready  for  school  and  I'll  come  back 
very  soon  with  the  doctor." 

When  the  doctor  came  he  said  the  "  sores  "  were 
very  bad. 

"  She  must  have  a  nurse  here  to  dress  these  every 
day.  She  should  really  be  in  a  hospital,"  he  ex- 
plained to  the  school  visitor. 

The  woman  cried  out  sharply  — "  No,  no.  I  lose 
mine  kid  if  I  go  by  hospital.  Maybe  I  die.  No,  I 
stay  home." 

Aunt  Margaret  asked  the  Nurses  Settlement  for 
help  and  one  of  the  blue  gowned  nurses  called  every 
day  until  the  patient  was  cured. 

In  the  meantime  the  little  girl  fell  ill.  Nothing 
we  could  do  could  save  her.  Neglect  and  poverty 
had  weakened  her  so  that  when  pneumonia  attacked 
her  she  died.  Aunt  Margaret  helped  from  first  to 
last. 

Some  weeks  later  the  mother  came  to  school. 

"  I  come  to  say  good-bye,"  she  said.     "  I  go  with 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     145 

mine  husband  in  the  country.  But  first  I  say  good- 
bye to  the  school,  mine  friend,  never  I  forget.  So 
good  you  were,  so  kind.  When  I  come  back  I  come 
to  see  you,  how  you  look.  I  wish  you  health  — " 

A  few  words  of  explanation  was  all  that  Aunt 
Margaret  needed,  for  she  was  keen  where  children 
were  concerned  and  knew  what  to  do. 

Were  the  children  dirty?  Somehow  they  were 
made  clean.  Were  they  hungry?  Then  they  were 
fed.  Were  they  brought  before  the  children's 
court,  Aunt  Margaret  was  sure  to  be  there  to  plead 
their  cause.  Was  father  out  of  work?  A  job  was 
dug  up  out  of  somewhere.  One  thought  twice  be- 
fore getting  into  trouble,  for  while  she  helped  you 
out,  you  got  a  stinging,  blistering  raking  over  when 
she  had  pulled  you  out. 

Peter,  one  of  the  highlights  in  4A,  stole  some 
pigeons.  The  indignant  owner  had  him  arrested 
and  hauled  to  the  Court. 

Peter's  father  and  Aunt  Margaret  appeared  with 
him. 

"  I  didn't  steal  'em,"  said  Peter,  looking  the  judge 
straight  in  the  eye  — "  I  took  'em."  Aunt  Mar- 
garet gasped  and  the  father  made  frantic  gestures 
towards  Peter. 

"  But  they  were  not  yours.  What  do  you  call 
stealing?  " 


146     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

"  When  I  take  it  and  I  ain't  got  the  right." 

"  Exactly.  Now  what  right  had  you  to  those 
pigeons?  " 

'*  They  eat  my  pigeons'  feed.  He  never  hardly 
feeds  his  and  they  come  and  cat  my  feed." 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  say,  Peter?"  and  the 
judge's  eyes  searched  Peter's  face. 

"  And  —  a  —  I  wanted  the  fantail." 

11  Exactly.  Then  you  stole,  Peter,  and  I  ought 
to  lock  you  up." 

Peter  hung  his  head. 

Turning  to  Aunt  Margaret  the  judge  said,  "  What 
kind  of  a  boy  is  he  in  school?  " 

"  He's  a  first  rate  boy.  We've  never  heard  a 
word  against  him.  His  teacher  says  his  lessons  arc 
very  good.  I  think  he  made  a  mistake,  your 
Honour.  Perhaps  you  could  give  him  another 
chance  and  we'll  keep  an  eye  on  him.  He's  really  a 
good  boy." 

Peter  looked  up  gratefully. 

"  If  I  let  you  go  home  with  your  father  and  this 
lady  this  time,"  said  the  judge,  "  will  you  promise 
me  not  to  take  anything  that  isn't  yours  —  even  if 
you  think  you  have  a  good  excuse?  " 

"  Sure  —  I  mean  —  Yes,  sir." 

"  Very  well.  Are  you  willing  to  take  charge  of 
him?  "  the  judge  said  to  Aunt  Margaret.  "  You'll 
be  responsible  for  him  and  if  he  does  anything  like 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     147 
this  again  you'll  have  to  bring  him  back  here  to 


me." 


"  Yes,  I'll  take  him,"  said  Aunt  Margaret,  "  and 
I'll  see  he  doesn't  come  back." 

On  the  way  home  Aunt  Margaret  took  a  hand  at 
Peter. 

"Look  here  —  young  man  —  stealing  is  stealing 
and  there'll  be  none  of  it  in  your  family.  Do  you 
understand?  I'll  take  a  look  at  those  pigeons  of 
yours  every  so  often  and  if  I  find  one  there  that  I 
don't  know  about  —  I'll  empty  that  coop  —  every 
last  one  of  them  will  fly  over  your  head.  Mind 
that." 

"  I  have  more  trouble,"  said  my  assistant  to  Aunt 
Margaret,  "  with  ninety-nine,  ninety-nine  than  with 
any  other  house  in  the  district.  It  seems  to  me  that 
anybody  who  is  dirty,  or  sick  or  a  truant  lives  there. 
I  wish  it  would  disappear  off  the  face  of  the  earth," 
and  the  assistant  slammed  down  a  bundle  of  papers 
on  her  desk.  "  Every  one  of  those  slips  stands  for 
somebody  in  ninety-nine,  ninety-nine  —  I  wish  I 
could  find  out  what  sort  of  a  place  that  is." 

"  Aunt  Margaret "  reached  for  the  slips  and 
dropped  them  into  her  black  bag,  saying,  "  I'll  look 
in  to-day  and  tell  you  what  I  find." 

Later  in  the  day  she  stopped  at  the  school  to  re- 
port. 


148     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

4  Well,  I  should  say  there  was  something  wrong 
about  that  house.  It's  awful,  I  don't  believe  it's  had 
a  coat  of  paint  since  it  was  built.  The  fire  escapes 
are  jammed.  The  first  floor  stairway  looks  like  a 
dump.  It's  a  wonder  everybody  in  the  house  isn't 
sick.  I've  asked  all  the  departments  in  sight  for 
help,  and  they've  all  promised  to  get  busy.  The 
landlord  says  all  he  does  is  paint  and  paper  but  I 
don't  believe  it.  I  am  going  to  make  him  show  me. 

"  But  I  don't  think  we'll  get  very  far  at  that.  I 
went  in  to  Mary  Ann's  mother  about  her  hair  and 
what  do  you  think  she  said?  '  And  what  of  that? 
Sure  she  has  them.  We  all  have  them.  It's  a  sign 
of  good  health.'  Did  you  ever  hear  anything  to 
equal  that?" 

"  Lots,"  said  the  assistant.  "  Lots,  I've  heard  a 
book  since  I  began  to  get  after  ninety-nine,  ninety- 
nine." 

"  Well,  we'll  see  what  the  Board  of  Health  and  the 
Tenement  Department  will  do  for  us,"  and  Aunt 
Margaret  gathered  up  her  belongings  and  went 
home. 

"  How's  ninety-nine,  ninety-nine  ?  "  my  assistant 
asked  her  a  while  later. 

"  Fine,  we're  a  little  cleaner.  The  children  are 
looking  better.  I'm  going  around  there  this  morn- 
ing though  to  see  Mary  Ann.  She  isn't  much  bet- 
ter." 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     149 

In  a  short  time  the  school  visitor  returned.  She 
was  angry. 

"  If  that  place  isn't  the  limit.  I've  just  had  it 
cleaned  up  and  it's  as  bad  as  ever.  I  went  in  to  see 
about  Mary  Ann  and  the  minute  I  stepped  into  the 
hall  I  smelled  something.  I  walked  to  the  back  and 
there  under  the  stairs  was  a  dirty  old  mattress  and  a 
heap  of  old  rags  and  the  smell  of  cats  —  I  went  hot- 
foot for  the  janitor. 

"  *  What  can  I  do  ? '  he  said.  *  I  told  you  you 
couldn't  keep  this  place  clean.  It  ain't  my  fault. 
I  don't  make  the  people.  Now  you  see  it  for  your- 
self. I  got  my  troubles  and  they  ain't  yours. 
Yours  ain't  mine  neither,'  and  he  turned  his  back  on 
me  and  started  to  walk  off. 

"  *  Who  put  that  stuff  there?  '  I  demanded. 

"  '  How  should  I  know?  I  guess  it  was  Rebecca's 
family.' 

"  I  went  right  up  and  asked  Rebecca's  mother 
why  she  put  that  stuff  out  there  and  she  said,  '  I 
didn't  put  it  there,  the  kids  did.' 

"  '  What  did  you  let  them  do  it  for?  ' 

"  '  I  should  let  them  do  it?  She  asks  me  I  should 
let  the  kids?  They  don't  ask  me.  They  put  it 
there  for  a  place  for  their  cats.' 

"  *  Their  cats ! '  I  exclaimed. 

'  Sure,  ain't  they  got  any  rights?     The  teacher 
of  the  Board  of  Health  says  they  can't  keep  no  cats 


15°     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

in  the  house  cause  it  ain't  healthy.  She  says  it  makes 
sores  on  the  baby,  those  cats.  Then  the  kids  put 
them  in  a  place  under  the  stairs.  I  ain't  got  any- 
thing to  do  by  it.1  She  waved  her  arms  overhead 
and  shouted  at  me  till  I  was  deaf  and  dizzy."  Aunt 
Margaret  was  out  of  breath. 

"  What  did  you  do?  "  asked  the  assistant. 

"  I  got  the  rubbish  man  to  take  the  stuff  out. 
Now  I'm  going  to  get  rid  of  those  cats." 

She  picked  up  the  telephone  and  began  talking. 

"  Yes,  a  lot  of  cats,  Ninety-nine,  ninety-nine. 
"Catch  them?  No,  I  didn't.  How  can  I  catch 
them?  Will  you  go  up  with  your  wagon  and  try? 
I'll  catch  what  I  can." 

"Now,  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  said  Aunt 
Margaret  as  she  hung  up  the  receiver.  "  He  says 
did  I  catch  the  cats?" 

There  were  the  dance  halls  and  the  moving  picture 
shows  always  likely  to  become  a  serious  menace  to 
moral  growth.  To  cope  with  the  conditions,  the 
school  visitor  had  to  stay  in  the  district  nights,  Sat- 
urdays and  Sundays.  She  had  to  find  out  exactly 
what  went  on,  who  the  leaders  were,  what  tempta- 
tions were  put  before  the  children  to  attract  and 
keep  them,  and  then  to  act  in  accord  with  this  in- 
formation, appealing  to  the  law,  to  welfare  societies, 
and  to  the  parents,  individually  and  collectively. 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     151 

Usually  reports  of  this  kind  made  to  the  group 
of  parents  evoked  more  interest  and  enthusiasm  than 
any  other  kind.  The  visitor's  vigorous  crusades  al- 
ways resulted  in  better  conditions. 


But  somehow  I  already  had  the  feeling  that  the 
very  presence  of  Aunt  Margaret,  even  though  she 
belonged  to  the  school  and  to  the  people,  was  ulti- 
mately tending  towards  keeping  the  people  out  of 
the  school  and  the  school  out  of  the  home.  She  was 
here,  there,  everywhere.  The  people  met  her  in  the 
streets,  in- the  homes.  The  more  efficient  Aunt  Mar- 
garet became  the  more  the  parents  relied  on  her  and 
stayed  home,  the  more  the  teachers  stayed  in  the 
schoolhouse  and  relied  on  her.  I  had  the  same  idea 
about  the  doctors,  the  settlement  leaders,  the  civic 
club.  I  wondered  if  the  price  the  school  had  to 
pay  for  efficiency  was  a  loss  of  the  personal  element, 
the  very  thing  we  had  worked  hard  to  obtain. 

The  school  had  stood  alone,  an  imposing  struc- 
ture ;  about  it  a  tall  iron-spiked  fence  with  gates  that 
opened  and  shut  at  the  appointed  hour.  Scarcely  a 
soul  that  was  not  a  pupil,  a  teacher,  or  a  school  of- 
ficial, had  ventured  through  its  gates.  They  had 
passed,  repassed,  looked  up,  wondered  what  might 
be  going  on  inside  and  then  passed  on  thinking, 


152     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

4  What  handsome  buildings  our  school  houses 
are!" 

I  had  come  and  asked  the  people  to  stop.  They 
had  stopped.  By  ones  and  twos  they  had  come 
through  the  gates.  Then  we  had  gone  on  together, 
parents  and  teachers,  sharing  the  children's  prob- 
lems. We  had  worked  individually  and  collectively 
to  push  the  school  out  into  the  neighbourhood. 
"My  school"  had  become  "Our  School."  The 
teachers'  school  had  become  the  people's  school. 

Through  its  efforts  to  get  the  people  as  the  back- 
ground for  the  spiritual  growth  of  the  children  the 
school  had  succeeded  in  starting  the  mass  movement. 
And  then  what  had  happened?  The  energy  of  the 
mass  had  begun  to  divide  itself  almost  at  the  very 
moment  of  its  greatest  unity.  Each  group  had  be- 
gun to  interpret  the  idea  of  service  in  terms  of  its 
own  experience.  Each  had  begun  to  think,  "  Mine 
is  the  most  important  work." 

Those  that  had  helped  to  care  for  the  sick  de- 
veloped the  dispensary.  They  believed  this  was  the 
great  neighbourhood  need. 

Those  that  had  been  talking  about  overcrowded 
school  conditions  built  a  school.  They  believed  this 
was  the  great  neighbourhood  need. 

Those  that  wanted  the  inspiration  of  personal 
leadership  formed  a  settlement.  They  believed  this 
was  the  great  neighbourhood  need. 


Neighbourhood  Idea  Keeps  Growing     153 

Those  that  wanted  the  spread  of  knowledge  on 
civic  problems  organised  a  forum.  They  believed 
this  was  the  great  neighbourhood  need. 

We  had  thought  our  worries  were  over,  and  they 
were  only  beginning  in  a  new  way.  I  realised  that 
the  problem  the  school  was  now  facing  was  one  com- 
mon to  many  schools.  There  was  scarcely  a  con- 
gested school  district  in  the  city  that  had  not  its  set- 
tlement, its  library,  its  hospital,  its  park,  its  charit- 
able organisations,  its  civic  bodies.  Would  the 
school  be  equal  to  the  task  of  keeping  the  social 
forces  working  together,  the  children  always  as  the 
centre  of  united  effort? 

There  .was  no  answer.  And  yet  I  knew  that  the 
school  must  accept  the  challenge  or  again  stand  alone 
while  the  crowd  passed  by  its  gates.  The  school 
that  had  started  the  mass  movement  and  had  watched 
it  take  its  course  would  now  have  to  regather  the 
mass  and  start  it  off  once  more. 


CHAPTER  VI 

OUR  SCHOOL 
I 

WHILE  the  school  was  engaged  in  the  process  of 
getting  the  parent  to  feel  the  power  that  comes 
through  united  effort,  what  was  the  school  doing 
within  its  own  doors  to  reflect  the  larger  freedom 
and  the  closer  human  touches  of  the  world  outside  its 
doors?  What  was  the  reaction  of  all  this  upon  the 
life  of  the  school?  Very  slight,  I  confessed  to  my- 
self. The  classroom  work  went  on  very  much  in  the 
same  way.  Why  was  this? 

I  went  back  to  my  own  experiences  as  a  teacher. 
Many  times  I  had  the  feeling  of  bondage.  I  was 
just  one  in  a  great  machine  and  as  long  as  I  stayed 
in  my  particular  corner  that  was  sufficient. 

The  days  slipped  by  in  a  monotonous  repetition, 
"number  for  ten  examples —  If  a  man  had, — " 
of  bells,  marchings,  piles  of  yellow  paper  that 
seemed  to  distribute  themselves  to  the  deadening, 
chant  "  Write  your  name,  class,  and  date  at  the  head 
of  the  paper.  .  .  .  Skip  a  line.  Begin  one  inch  in 

154 


Our  School  155 

from  the  left  side  I  Monitors  collect.  .  .  .  Mark 
time,  march," —  and  the  day  was  over. 

This  kind  of  work  I  had  to  do  day  in  and  day  out. 
Going  home  nights  I  was  weary.  There  is  no  bond- 
age so  deadly  as  that  which  prohibits  intellectual 
liberty.  Intellectual  slavery  was  what  school  teach- 
ing had  meant  to  me  at  that  time.  It  should  not 
mean  that  for  these  teachers  if  I  could  prevent  it. 

I  looked  for  individual  strength  in  the  teacher  and 
put  that  strength  on  the  work  where  it  would  tell. 
I  felt  that  the  teacher  would  grow  only  when  allowed 
to  use  her  best  talent  in  behalf  of  the  children. 

Teachers'  hobbies  was  what  "  my  school  "  needed. 
The  anaemic  class  was  given  to  one  type  of  teacher, 
the  atypical  class  to  another,  the  backward  class  to 
another,  the  posture  cases  to  one  group,  the  speech 
cases  to  another,  the  disciplinary  cases  to  the  Child's 
Interest  Committee.  What  we  did  for  the  special 
children  during  school  time  we  now  tried  to  do  for 
the  normal  children,  but  this  had  to  be  done  after 
school  hours  and  in  the  teacher's  own  time. 

The  lover  of  flowers  organised  the  Nature  Study 
walks,  the  lover  of  music  organised  the  Choral  Club, 
the  literary  groups  became  the  editorial  staff  of  the 
school  paper  and  the  Story  Telling  club.  Teachers 
grouped  themselves  according  to  individual  tastes 
and  inclinations.  There  were  committees  on  festi- 
vals, athletics,  dancing,  embroidery  classes,  art 


156     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

classes,  manual  training  classes.  The  children  se- 
lected the  class  they  wanted  to  join  and  soon  the 
school  hummed  with  the  sounds  of  these  different 
afternoon  "  shops."  But  one  must  finish  his  day's 
allotment  of  the  classroom  work  before  he  could  re- 
lax  in  the  shops. 

I  was  going  the  rounds  of  the  building  late  one 
afternoon,  as  was  my  habit.  This  was  a  long  time 
after  I  had  become  principal.  I  passed  the  assem- 
bly room.  It  was  full  of  groups  of  children  and 
teachers.  Some  were  rehearsing,  some  were  talk- 
ing, some  were  just  looking  on  and  smiling.  In  an- 
other room  I  found  a  group  of  boys  and  girls  making 
paper  hats.  In  another  half  a  dozen  were  drawing, 
putting  in  colour,  motion,  ideas,  and  each  proud  be- 
cause the  drawing  belonged  to  him. 

I  went  on.  It  was  late.  School  as  such  had 
closed  its  doors  long  since.  Yet  here  were  half  a 
dozen  teachers  and  a  hundred  or  more  children 
working,  laughing,  growing  together. 

I  went  into  another  room.  A  teacher  was  sitting 
there  with  a  group  of  children  about  her.  They 
had  papers  all  about  them.  Now  and  then  they 
stopped  to  read  one  aloud  and  the  teacher  and  the 
children  would  say,  "  Let's  save  that  one.  That's 
a  real  good  story." 


Our  School  157 

When  they  saw  me  standing  near  them  they  looked 
up. 

'  We  are  picking  out  the  good  ones  that  are  to 
go  into  the  school  paper,"  and  the  teacher  added, 
"  See  what  Isaac  has  written." 

THE  WIND 

Oh !  How  I'd  like  to  be  the  wind !  I'd  scamper  all  over 
the  world. 

I'd  blow  so  softly,  that  the  buds  would  say,  "  Spring  is 
coming.  Let's  put  on  our  bonnets  of  bright  colours." 

If  I  were  at  sea  I  would  whisper  into  the  captain's  ear, 
"  Spring  is  coming." 

Oh!  Oh!  I'd  have  a  jolly  time  frolicing  all  the  day 
long. 

I  went  out  of  the  room  smiling,  feeling  that  the 
children  were  getting  a  sense  of  values,  a  sense  of 
joyousness,  a  sense  of  laughter  with  their  prod- 
uct. 

The  regular  classroom,  however,  with  its  fixed 
curriculum  seemed  the  hardest  to  reach.  It  seemed 
almost  impossible  to  vitalise  the  curriculum  by  means 
of  first  hand  experiences  or  to  push  the  classroom  out 
into  the  world.  There  was  no  time  for  the  cultural 
values  here.  The  classes  were  large,  the  per  cent, 
standard  high,  and  the  time  limited. 

A  geography  teacher  who  dropped  into  the  office 
one  afternoon  epitomised  this  situation. 


158     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

He  was  short  and  chubby  —  the  sort  that  never 
stands  if  he  can  sit  and  never  sits  up  if  he  can  lie 
down,  and  the  more  sofa  pillows  the  better. 

He  slid  down  into  a  chair  and  when  his  hands 
had  found  their  accustomed  pockets  and  coins  and 
keys  he  made  his  plaint. 

"  *  Head  '  came  in  to-day.  Gave  me  a  '  Sugges- 
tive outline '  for  a  geography  lesson.  Says  it'll 
4  stimulate  thought  and  imagination.'  Make  you 
dizzy.  Wait  'n'  I'll  read  it." 

Searching  about  in  his  pocket  he  drew  out  a  note 
book  and  read:  "  Michael  Zunich's  father  is  going 
to  move  his  family  to  Wilkesbarre  next  week.  This 
family  came  from  the  mining  district  of  Austria. 
They  are  going  to  the  mining  district  of  Pennsyl- 
vania. Get  Michael  to  tell  his  experiences  in  the 
old  country,  his  voyage  to  New  York.  Get  class  to 
see  why  his  father  is  going  to  Pennsylvania  rather 
than  stay  in  New  York.  Go  over  the  route  from 
New  York  to  Wilkesbarre,  the  distance,  the  cost, 
the  time.  Compare  the  coal  and  iron  industries  of 
the  two  countries.  Get  Michael  to  promise  to  write 
to  the  class  to  answer  the  questions  that  he  can't  an- 
swer now." 

"  Sounds  interesting,"  I  ventured.  "  Did  you  try 
it  out?" 

He  snuggled  further  down  into  his  wide  collar  and 
comfortable  pockets. 


Our  School  159 

"  I  certainly  did  not.  That  class  has  to  learn  the 
stuff  that'll  pass  exams.  When  they  come  up  for 
promotion,  will  anybody  ask  them  to  follow  Zunich's 
old  man  around  the  globe?  They  emphatically  will 
not.  Where's  Wilkesbarre?  What's  the  principal 
industry?  What  railroad?  Just  like  that.  That's 
what  they  need.  Well,  I'm  off.  Had  a  long  day. 
Good-bye." 

Gently  he  eased  himself  out  of  his  chair. 

"  Good-bye,"  I  answered.  "  Thanks  for  show- 
ing me  the  outline.  You  know  I  rather  like  that  no- 
tion?" 

"Which?"  and  he  stopped  in  the  doorway. 
"Oh,  the  suggestive  outline?  Stimulate  thought, 
et  cetera.  Sure,  I'm  going  to  give  it.  I'll  take  the 
time  from  the  literature.  *  Head's  '  a  good  fellow. 
Do  it  just  to  please  her.  Good-bye." 

A  line  from  my  old  history  flashed  into  my 
thoughts :  "  Dense  and  impenetrable  forests  lay  be- 
tween him  and  the  entrenched  enemy." 

The  classrooms  were  too  strongly  entrenched.  I 
must  try  to  break  through  by  a  new  route  —  the 
school  assembly. 

The  strongest  impression  of  an  assembly  exercise  I 
had  carried  away  from  my  attendance  at  public 
school  was  that  of  the  principal,  day  after  day,  read- 
ing to  the  assembled  group,  a  chapter  at  a  time,  the 
story  of  "  Black  Beauty."  He  could  read  wonder- 


160     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

fully  well.  The  children  understood  every  word  he 
said.  He  held  us  spellbound  as  he  read  through  the 
story. 

It  was  the  cumulative  effect  of  this  reading  that 
impressed  me.  The  rest  of  the  exercises  never 
touched  me.  They  were  pieced  up  of  odds  and  ends, 
—  a  recitation,  a  song,  a  quotation,  with  no  relation 
of  one  to  the  other. 

I  never  recall  them  without  chuckling  over  the 
funny  side  of  one  disastrous  November  morning. 
We  took  turns  in  furnishing  the  "  entertainment." 
This  gave  us  each  about  two  weeks  to  prepare.  The 
morning  I  speak  of  fell  to  46.  The  luckless  teacher 
had  forgotten  to  give  out  the  quotations  until  the 
night  before  and  then  in  a  perfect  panic  distributed 
the  three  stanzas  of  "  The  Rainy  Day "  to  three 
pupils,  conjuring  them  by  all  they  held  dear  to  be 
ready  to  recite  them  in  the  assembly  the  next  morn- 
ing. 

That  morning  it  rained  as  thoroughly  and  com- 
pletely as  a  November  sky  could  rain  when  it  was 
in  earnest  about  it.  The  wind  came  in  great  gusts 
sending  the  leaves  and  dead  twigs  up  against  the  win- 
dow panes  where  they  tapped  as  if  eager  to  get  in 
from  the  storm  outside. 

Few  children  came  to  school  and  the  big  Assem- 
bly hall  was  scarcely  one-third  full.  The  children 
started  bravely  to  sing  America,  but  their  voices  echo- 


Our  School  161 

ing  strangely,  frightened  them  and  they  trailed  out 
miserably  at  the  end. 

The  principal  rose  and  with  all  his  accustomed 
grace  and  art  read  from  the  Bible  the  story  of  the 
man  who  built  a  great  gallows  for  his  enemy  and  was 
himself  hanged  upon  it. 

"  So  they  hanged  Haman  on  the  gallows  he  had 
prepared  for  Mordecai.  Then  was  the  king's  wrath 
pacified."  The  sonorous  voice  rolled  through  the 
silent  room.  The  children  sat  scared  and  motion- 
less. 

He  sent  a  sweeping  glance  over  the  room  and 
solemnly  closed  the  great  Book.  This  was  48*5  cue. 

The  first  child  rose  in  his  place  and  in  a  thin,  little 
piping  voice  announced  — 

"  The  day  is  cold  and  dark  and  dreary," 

Swish,  swish  came  the  rain  on  the  windows  tap, 
crack,  and  a  twig  rapped  smartly  against  them: 

"  It  rains, —  it  rains  " — 

the  piping  voice  stumbled,  stopped,  and  the  child  sat 
down. 

The  second  child  rose  and  began  tremblingly, 

"  My  life  is  cold  and  dark  and  dreary  — " 

His  voice  trailed  away  and  the  storm  once  again 
filled  the  silence.  A  merciful  teacher  signalled  the 


1 6i     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

boy  to  sit,  and  the  third  one  rose  and  announced  in  a 
startlingly  loud  and  commanding  tone  — 

"  Be  still  — " 

The  principal  swung  about  in  his  direction  and 
looked  at  him  fiercely.  That  was  fatal. 

44  Be  still,1'  again  declared  the  boy,  and  ceased. 

44  You  have  said  it,  my  son,"  boomed  the  principal. 
"  We  will  omit  the  closing  song." 

Aside  from  this  single  exception  of  "  Black 
Beauty,"  I  do  not  remember  the  school  ever  staying 
with  a  beautiful  idea  long  enough  to  have  it  become 
part  of  the  children's  lives. 

Now  our  assembly  work  was  going  to  be  worth 
while.  A  special  teachers'  committee,  therefore, 
planned  the  assembly  exercises.  Their  attention 
was  first  centred  on  literature. 

Most  of  the  children  came  from  homes  where 
English  was  spoken  either  not  at  all,  or  very  poorly. 
There  were  a  few  of  English  origin.  If  our  chil- 
dren were  to  grow  to  love  English  literature  they 
must  come  upon  it  in  a  more  vital  way  than  they 
could  possibly  meet  it  in  classroom  work.  In  the 
classroom  there  was  always  a  tendency  toward  gram- 
matical analysis.  Even  in  the  treatment  of  Mother 
Goose  there  is,  in  the  classroom,  the  temptation  to 
use  the  stories  as  a  basis  for  word  drills,  and  little 


Our  School  163 

else.  We  wanted  appreciation,  not  symbols,  and  we 
were  going  to  use  the  assembly  as  a  means  of  getting 
this.  We  wanted  to  teach  literature,  on  this  occa- 
sion at  least,  so  that  it  would  become  a  permanent 
part  of  the  child's  life,  and  be  carried- home  to  his 
family,  to  his  younger  brothers  and  sisters. 

We  were  gathered  about  the  table  viewing  these 
points  pro  and  con  in  the  usual  conservative  tone  of 
a  teachers'  meeting. 

"  I'd  like  to  begin  with  a  children's  poet,"  I  said 
in  one  of  the  pauses. 

"  Which  one?  "  somebody  put  in. 

"  Longfellow,"  suggested  the  chubby  geography 
man.  "  He's  the  easiest.  *  Under  the  Spreading 
Chestnut  Tree.'  " 

We  smiled  at  his  joke  and  waited  for  some  one 
to  make  another  suggestion.  None  coming,  I  said, 
"  I  thought  about  Stevenson.  How  would  he  do  to 
begin  with  ?  " 

"Splendid!"  and  a  wiry  little  teacher  who  up 
until  now  had  not  uttered  a  syllable  except  to  vote 
"  ay  "  jumped  to  her  feet.  "  He's  the  one  for  the 
children." 

For  the  first  time  since  we'd  known  her  the  Scotch 
burr  had  stuck  to  her  tongue.  Snatching  up  the 
book  that  lay  near  her  hand  she  hurried  on,  a  bright 
rose  colour  appearing  on  either  cheek  bone  and  her 
dark  eyes  taking  fire  as  she  talked  excitedly. 


164     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

"Ah  —  he's  a  r-rarc  one  I  tell  you.  Here's  the 
place  we  begin: 

SINGING! 

"  Of  speckled  eggs  the  birdie  sings 

And  nests  among  the  trees; 
The  sailor  sings  of  ropes  and  thing* 
In  ships  upon  the  seas. 

"  The  children  sing  in  far  Japan, 

The  children  sing  in  Spain; 
The  organ  with  the  organ  man 
Is  singing  in  the  rain. 

"Do  you  get  it?  They're  all  singing —  Chil- 
dren all  around  the  world  in  one  great  merry-go- 
round  are  joining  hands  and  singing  —  that's  the 
thing  for  you ! 

"  Hark  ye  to  this  bit!  *  Bring  the  comb  and  play 
upon  it. — '  Can't  you  just  see  them  stretching  out 
their  little  legs  and  marching  and  singing  —  sing- 
ing! 

"  Everywhere  he  starts  them  at  it  —  The  wind 
and  the  rain  and  the  sea  make  music  for  them  and 
away  they  go,  dancing. 

"  And  the  pictures,  they're  wonderful  —  The  wee 
yellow  bird  on  the  window  sill  —  The  formless  wind 
singing  in  the  grass  and  the  treetops  —  The  tiny 
lad  marching  and  singing  in  the  land  of  pain  — 


Our  School  165 

The  wistful  poetry  of  childhood —  It's  all  there 
and  so  wonderful,  wonderful ! 

"  Man,  we'll  clap  a  glengarry  and  kilts  on  this  old 
school.  We'll  stick  a  twig  of  heather  in  her  hand 
and  she'll  march  to  Stevenson's  music."  She  stopped 
breathless  and  glowing. 

We  chose  Stevenson. 

The  Stevenson  enthusiast  never  let  up.  She 
pointed  out  the  best  poem  for  the  kindergarten,  the 
best  one  for  the  I  A's.  She  recited  one  here  to  prove 
its  music,  another  one  in  some  other  room  to  point 
out  the  nicety  of  its  phrasing.  She  found  musical 
settings  for  some  and  dramatic  settings  for  others. 
She  got  some  fine  pictures  that  illustrated,  in  colour, 
some  of  the  children's  favourites.  So  we  recited 
and  sang  and  marched  to  Stevenson's  music  until  his 
spirit  permeated  the  school. 

On  Fridays  we  had  special  Stevenson  exercises  in 
the  assembly.  We  sang  selected  Stevenson  songs,  re- 
cited the  last  learned  poems;  sometimes  several  chil- 
dren recited  the  same  one,  vicing  with  each  other  to 
bring  out  its  special  beauties.  I  asked  questions 
about  the  songs  and  pictures  and  poems  and  about 
the  man  who  wrote  them  all  and  the  children  an- 
swered freely,  joyously.  At  the  end  of  the  term  all 
the  children  knew  a  few  of  the  poems,  while  some  of 
them  knew  a  great  many.  Some  two  hundred  chil- 


1 66     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

dren  owned  copies  of  the  "  Child's  Garden  of 
Verses." 

When  we  finished  with  Stevenson  we  went  to  Field 
and  Riley. 

Then  there  were  the  Folk  Tales  that  were  handled 
in  a  similar  fashion.  Folk  Tales,  not  scattered,  but 
in  terms  of  people,  Russian,  Irish,  German,  Nor- 
wegian and  Indian. 

These  were  dramatised  and  the  songs  and  dances 
introduced.  We  gave  the  children  a  sympathetic 
appreciation  of  people  and  taught  them  to  take  home 
these  folk  stories,  tell  them  to  their  parents  and  get 
the  parents  to  tell  their  own  folk  tales.  So  would 
the  children  be  kept  close  to  their  parents,  giving  and 
receiving  values  that  were  human. 

The  parents  came  to  our  Friday  morning  assem- 
blies, sometimes  a  few,  sometimes  a  great  many,  but 
those  who  came  always  smiled  as  they  left  and  car- 
ried the  spirit  of  the  school  beyond  its  doors. 

When  spring  came  I  thought  of  the  time  of  carni- 
val in  Italy,  the  huge  masqued  forms  reaching  to 
the  upper  windows  of  the  low  houses  and  the  chil- 
dren pretending  to  be  scared  at  their  hugeness,  run- 
ning in  and  out  from  behind  doors  and  corners.  It 
was  all  a  game  that  the  men,  women  and  children 
played.  Then  there  were  the  religious  festivals, 


Our  School  167 

crowds,  lights,  processions,  fireworks,  colour,  laugh- 
ter ;  a  people  at  play. 

The  school  needed  a  play  day.  I  wanted  the 
babies,  the  mothers,  the  grandfathers,  the  friends 
to  feel,  to  think,  to  take  their  part  in  this  thing  for 
one  day  and  so  selected  Arbour  Day  as  our  festival. 

The  school  neighbourhood  soon  got  the  habit  of 
looking  forward  to  Arbour  Day.  We  knew  it  was 
coming  when  a  month  or  more  before  the  day  the 
Dramatic  Club  began  its  work  of  selecting,  of  put- 
ting together,  of  changing,  of  re-arranging  the  best 
scenes  of  the  term's  work  in  dramatics. 

We  knew  Arbour  Day  had  almost  come  when  the 
duly  delegated  member  of  the  Parents'  Association 
reported  that  the  Park  Department  had  granted  us 
twelve  trees  for  Arbour  Day,  one  for  each  grade. 

We  knew  Arbour  Day  was  very  near  when  on 
Thursday  the  trees  arrived,  and  the  men  came  to 
dig  the  holes,  and  the  school  paper  came  from  the 
press  and  we  all  went  home  praying  for  fair  weather. 

We  knew  it  was  Arbour  Day  when  on  Friday 
morning  we  woke  early  and  looked  out  to  find  a  clear 
sky  and  a  warm  sun.  We  went  to  school  an  hour 
ahead  of  time  just  because  we  couldn't  stay  at  home, 
or  because  we  wanted  to  make  sure  that  the  final 
touch  had  been  given  to  the  building's  decorations. 

Before  the  doors  were  opened,  there  was  an  army 


1 68     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

of  three  thousand  children,  all  dressed  in  their  best, 
bright,  coloured  and  gay.  With  them  were  their 
mothers,  their  aunts,  their  cousins,  and  the  babies  in 
the  baby  carriages. 

Those  that  could,  went  to  the  assembly  to  see  the 
play.  Those  that  had  no  tickets  of  admission  stayed 
in  the  streets  and  in  the  park  waiting  for  the  tree 
planting  and  the  out-door  games. 

A  child  announced  the  day's  programme.  He 
was  dressed  as  a  herald  and  spoke  through  a  trumpet. 
"  Know  all  ye  people  that  this  is  our  Arbour  Day. 
It  is  a  special  day  of  festivities  for  our  school.  It 
is  our  custom  each  year  to  plant  twelve  trees.  At 
nine  o'clock  there  will  be  performed  before  you  the 
play  of  Robin  Hood.  At  ten  o'clock  the  tree  plant- 
ing begins.  Each  class  plants  its  own  tree.  At  one 
o'clock  the  school  marches  to  the  athletic  field  to  en- 
gage in  its  sports.  This  is  according  to  our  custom 
so  that  one  day  in  each  year  parents,  teachers  and 
children  may  live  together  in  the  open.  This  is  our 
Arbour  Day." 

Then  away  we  marched  to  the  park.  The  brown 
uniformed  Park  men  helped  us  plant  the  trees  and 
when  the  lA  babies  joined  hands  and  sang  and 
danced  about  their  tree  they  beat  time  with  their 
picks  and  shovels  and  laughed  aloud  in  sympathy, 
and  the  big  policemen  in  the  background  looked  at 
one  another  and  said  almost  wistfully,  "  We  had 


Our  School  169 

nothing  like  this  when  we  went  to  school.  It's 
great  to  be  a  kid  these  days." 

Then  the  games  and  the  dances  in  the  afternoon  I 
The  hurdy-gurdy  men  got  wind  of  us  and  came  smil- 
ing and  chattering  and  grinding  away  and  imme- 
diately all  the  little  girls  and  boys  joined  hands  and 
such  a  tumbling  of  little  legs  and  flashing  of  bright 
coloured  ribbons  you  never  saw. 

Beaming  mammas  and  laughing  teachers  poured 
pennies  into  the  hats  and  the  music  and  dancing  went 
on.  The  boys  played  games,  and  ran  races,  and 
proudly  displayed  their  medals. 

Then  joy  of  all  joys,  the  hokey,  pokey  man  ar- 
rived : 

"  Hokey-Pokey  —  com'  along, 
Hokey-Pokey  —  no  last-a-long ! 
Penny  lump  — 
Penny  lump." 

When  the  long  shadows  began  to  darken  the  grass 
we  started  home,  with  tousled  hair  and  floating  neck- 
ties, dusty  shoes  and  sticky  faces,  and  the  memory 
of  a  great  glad  day. 

II 

What  had  become  of  the  problem  of  school  disci- 
pline, the  friction  that  resulted  when  a  teacher  tried 
to  teach  and  a  child  would  not  learn  ? 


1 70     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

I  had  begun  by  punishing  children  that  were  re- 
ported, by  all  the  means  known  to  school  masters; 
detention,  reprimand,  lowered  standing,  suspension 
from  work,  parents'  assistance,  but  following  the 
child  into  the  street  and  home  had  changed  the  point 
of  view.  The  problem  of  making  the  child  behave 
had  become  the  problem  of  providing  the  best  con- 
ditions of  growth  for  him.  The  school  discipline 
had  given  way  to  life  discipline  —  and  appreciation 
of  social  values,  because  the  children  that  needed 
discipline,  needed  the  help  of  the  community,  the 
people,  the  teachers,  the  doctors. 

Jacob  was  a  very,  very  small  boy  when  he  first 
came  to  us.  He  stayed  only  a  part  of  the  morning 
the  first  day  and  did  not  come  back  for  a  year. 
Then  he  came  for  two  hours  more  and  disappeared 
again.  Now  Jacob  was  within  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  Compulsory  Education  Law.  He  had  to  attend 
school.  Repeatedly  therefore  when  the  big  man  had 
gone  out  hunting  boys,  he  had  returned  with  this  wee 
boy  Jacob.  In  silence  they  would  come  through  the 
front  door,  up  the  stairs,  into  the  office  of  the  pri- 
mary department. 

Then  the  big  man  would  say,  "  Good  morning  — 
I  have  brought  in  Jacob.  He's  small  but  he  won't 
do  anything.  He  won't  stay  home  and  he  won't  go 
to  school.  He  is  on  parole  now.  If  he  does  not 
attend  we  will  put  him  in  the  truant  school" 


Our  School  171 

My  assistant  would  look  once  more  at  Jacob,  look 
severely,  sharply,  then  in  silence  take  his  hand.  In 
silence  they  would  go  down  the  hall.  Jacob  would 
be  put  in  his  class  with  fifty  little  boys,  all  sitting  very 
stiff  and  looking  at  the  teacher. 

"  Here  he  is  again.  Jacob,  sit  next  to  Joseph, 
and  Joseph,  be  sure  and  watch  him.  See  that  he 
does  not  get  away,"  ordered  the  teacher. 

The  seat  was  farthest  away  from  the  door.  But 
somehow  when  the  class  least  expected  it  Jacob 
would  disappear.  Usually  he  slid  to  the  floor  when 
the  class  was  busy  and  wiggled  his  way  over  the  well 
oiled  surface  and  out  of  the  room.  At  nine  years  of 
age  he  had  been  in  the  truant  school.  And  still  when 
the  big  man  went  out  hunting  boys  he  came  back  with 
Jacob. 

Then  something  happened.  Jacob  discovered  a 
teacher  he  liked.  She  was  teaching  the  first  grade 
and  a  girls'  class.  Jacob  was  in  the  second  grade, 
thanks  to  the  truant  school,  but  when  he  discovered 
Miss  Katherine,  instead  of  making  his  way  out  of 
the  building  he  appeared  dishevelled  and  dusty  be- 
side her. 

"  I  want  to  be  in  your  class." 

"  But,"  said  the  astonished  Miss  Katherine,  "  this 
is  a  girls'  class  and  a  first  grade." 

"  Where  will  I  sit?  "  asked  Jacob. 

Before  the  teacher  could  recover  herself,  Jacob 


1 72     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

had  found  an  empty  scat  and  taken  it  as  if  to  say, 
"  Let  the  world  roll  on,  I'm  happy." 

The  big  man  had  lost  his  job.  No  matter  how 
often  Jacob  was  placed  in  his  right  class  he  found 
his  way  to  Miss  [Catherine's  room. 

There  was  only  one  thing  to  do  and  that  was  to 
let  him  stay  with  her.  Miss  Katherinc  understood 
Jacob.  He  loved  growth  and  the  smell  of  growing 
things.  He  wanted  to  handle  flowers,  dirt,  animals, 
and  Miss  Katherine  saw  that  he  got  the  chance. 
She  understood  what  happened  to  Jacob  on  fine 
spring  mornings  when  the  roll  was  called  and  Jacob 
did  not  answer.  She  sent  him  on  trips  to  his  be- 
loved woods  and  he  brought  back  treasures  of  the 
outdoors.  These  he  tended. 

When  he  at  last  recognised  that  he  had  outgrown 
Miss  Katherine's  class  he  took  his  proper  grade 
but  reported  daily  to  his  first  friend. 

We  were  thankful  Miss  Katherine  belonged  to 
our  school.  While  she  took  care  of  Jacob,  the  rest 
of  us  had  grasped  a  new  idea. 

We  made  a  point  of  assigning  the  troublesome 
child  to  a  teacher  whom  he  liked.  The  teacher 
friend  kept  in  touch  with  him  as  long  as  she  could  be 
useful.  Sometimes  the  child  outgrew  one  advisor 
and  was  assigned  to  another.  Oftener  the  relation- 
ship lasted  through  his  school  life  and  beyond  it. 

It  was  this  desire  to  help  by  getting  strong  influences 


Our  School  173 

to  continue  to  be  a  part  of  a  child's  life  that  made  us 
send  the  "  Flannigans  "  to  the  settlement  house. 

When  a  parent  came  saying,  "  Please  see  that  my 
boy  behaves.  He  whips  his  little  brother  and  throws 
dishes  on  the  floor,"  the  teacher  gave  the  boy  a 
parole  card  and  the  parent  marked  the  home  be- 
haviour and  sent  the  card  in  to  the  teacher. 

Josephine  was  troublesome.  She  was  in  the  habit 
of  coming  in  and  out  of  school  to  suit  herself.  Her 
mother  worked  long  hours  and  had  no  time  to  train 
Josephine.  She  did  not  want  the  child  "  put  away." 

"  There's  a  woman  near  by,"  said  our  school  visi- 
tor, "  who  is  lonesome  for  children.  All  hers  have 
grown  up.  and  gone  away.  Let's  ask  her  and  see  if 
she  will  mother  Josephine." 

Accordingly  Josephine  was  transplanted.  The 
new  "  mother  "  taught  the  child  how  to  live  for  her- 
self and  other  people,  and  sent  her  back  home. 

"  I  could  teach,"  the  teacher  had  said,  "  if  some 
one  would  make  them  behave."  Now  she  said, 
"  Something  is  wrong  with  Jacob."  Instead  of 
thinking  of  Jacob  merely  as  an  interference,  as  "a 
challenge  to  her  ability  to  hold  her  position,  she 
thought  of  Jacob  as  a  little  child  crying  out  for  her 
help.  "  He  is  mine  to  make  behave,"  was  becom- 
ing. "  He  is  mine  to  stand  by  and  strengthen." 

Sounds  of  voices  in  loud  protest  came  from  the 


i?4     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

end  of  the  corridor  and  I  went  down  to  see  what 
was  wrong.  Miss  North  was  trying  to  talk  to  Mrs. 
Tavish  and  Mrs.  Tavish  was  insisting  upon  doing 
the  talking  herself. 

"  But  can't  you  understand  me?  I'm  telling  you 
I  don't  want  him  to  learn.  I'd  rather  he'd  be  stupid 
than  dead,"  she  shouted. 

"  He  must  learn.  Harry  must  obey  the  rules  of 
the  school  the  same  as  every  other  child,"  firmly 
enunciated  the  teacher.  "  He's  got  to  come  to 
school  every  day  and  come  early.  And  he's  got  to 
learn."  Miss  North  didn't  say  this  all  at  once.  She 
said  it  as  she  got  opportunity  between  the  loud  dec- 
lamations of  the  contrary  minded  Mrs.  Tavish. 

When  I  appeared  there  was  an  instant's  lull  and 
the  panting  teacher  said,  "  I'm  so  glad  you've  come. 
Perhaps  you  can  make  Mrs.  Tavish  understand." 

"Understand?  It's  me  that  understands. 
Haven't  I  been  trying  to  make  you  understand  the 
thing  that's  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face  for  the 
past  two  months,"  and  Mrs.  Tavish's  pleasant  voice 
rose  again  in  good  humoured  protest.  I  took  her 
to  the  office  and  asked  her  what  it  was  all  about. 

"  It's  about  my  Harry.  Now  I'm  not  standing 
up  for  Harry  —  and  I'm  not  blaming  him  either  — 
nor  the  teacher  —  for  there's  them  you  can  do  with, 
and  them  you  can't.  It's  the  same  with  teachers  as 
with  children,  you'll  find." 


Our  School  175 

"  What  did  you  want  the  teacher  to  do?  "  I  quer- 
ied. 

"  Just  to  leave  the  child  alone.  But  she  won't. 
She  says  she  can't.  I'm  the  mother  of  eleven,  all 
alive  and  well,  thank  God,  and  Harry's  the  last,  and 
if  I  must  say  it,  he's  a  bit  thick.  As  good  a  boy  as 
ever  stepped,  but  thick  about  his  lessons. 

"  Well,  sir,  whatever  got  into  that  teacher  two 
months  ago  she  began  fighting  the  child  to  learn  his 
lessons.  The  more  she  kept  at  him  the  more  she 
might,  till  she  says,  '  You'll  have  to  stay  in  every 
night  until  you  do  every  bit  of  your  work.'  True  to 
her  word,  didn't  she  keep  him  every  day  till  five  and 
after?  . 

"  I  didn't  tell  you  that  once  Harry  had  the  fits. 
He  doesn't  be  troubled  with  them  much  unless  his 
food  goes  wrong  or  something  bothers  him,  but  this 
steady  driving  brought  them  on.  He'd  come  home 
from  school  and  fall  asleep  at  the  table,  then  in  the 
night  he'd  have  a  fit.  The  next  morning  he  couldn't 
get  up.  He  was  all  in.  When  he  got  ready  I  gave 
him  his  breakfast  and  started  him  to  school.  To  be 
sure  he  was  late  but  I  thought  *  Better  late  than  not 
at  all/ 

"  All  this  time  I  kept  writing  her  notes  and  asking 
her  to  excuse  Harry  until  one  day  she  said,  *  Bring  me 
no  more  excuses.  You  must  learn  your  lessons  and 
you've  got  to  come  early  every  day.' 


176     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

"  She  kept  right  on  trying  to  make  him  learn 
and  keeping  him  in  every  day  until  Harry  came  home 
and  said,  '  I  won't  go  back  to  that  teacher  any  more.* 
Neither  would  he.  I  had  to  pull  him  out  of  bed 
and  push  him  to  the  school  door.  I  told  her  about  it 
but,  '  No,  he  must  come  and  he  must  learn,1  says  she. 

"  '  On  your  head  be  it,'  says  I  and  I  just  let  the 
child  sleep  in  the  morning. 

44  And  what  next  does  she  do,  d'ye  think?"  and 
here  Mrs.  Tavish  leaned  over  very  confidentially 
and  marked  each  word  with  her  forefinger  on  the 
arm  of  her  chair. 

"  She  comes  every  morning  before  eight  o'clock 
and  she  pushes  my  bell  and  says  she,  *  Is  Harry 
ready?  I'll  take  him  with  me,'  till  I'm  so  wrought 
up  I  hear  that  bell  every  morning  before  she  gets  on 
the  block.  Nothing  I  say  takes  effect  on  her.  She 
just  dunners  and  dunners  away  at  the  boy  until  he'll 
lose  the  bit  of  sense  he  has.  She's  got  to  stop  it. 
Now  am  I  right  or  am  I  wrong?"  and  she  leaned 
back  in  her  chair  with  the  patient  air  of  one  sorely 
tried. 

11 1  think  you're  right.  We'll  have  to  let  Harry 
alone." 

"  Good  for  you.  I'm  not  blaming  you  for  the 
teacher,  I  said  and  I  say  again,  there's  them  you  can 
do  with  and  them  you  can't.  And  you  must  not 
blame  me  for  Harry.  Some  we  make  priests,  some 


Our  School  177 

we  make  stone  masons  and  some  we  leave  as  God 
made  them.  That's  Harry  " —  and  she  shook  my 
hand  heartily  and  went  home. 

I  went  back  to  the  teacher  and  told  her  about  the 
boy. 

"  Oh,  I'm  sorry.  It's  all  my  own  fault.  If  I'd 
only  listened.  But  I  was  so  sure  he  was  just  lazy 
and  I  was  trying  so  hard  to  cure  him.  Do  you  think 
I've  hurt  him  much?  Can't  we  put  him  in  the 
Special?" 

"  That's  the  place  for  him,"  I  agreed. 

The  Special  was  a  very  large,  bright  room.  The 
children  were  selected  for  different  reasons.  Some 
were  too  fast  and  some  were  too  slow  for  the  meas- 
ured work  of  the  classroom.  Some  were  unfitted 
by  temperament  or  nerves  for  the  pressure  of  the  big 
group ;  each  of  them  was  an  individual  that  for  some 
reason  or  other  could  not  go  forward  with  the  mass. 

The  equipment  of  the  room  was  selected  with  the 
idea  of  liberty  of  action  for  individuals  and  groups. 
There  were  a  few  benches  screwed  in  orderly  lines 
to  the  floors;  but  scattered  about  the  room  were 
tables  and  chairs  where  children  might  group  them- 
selves for  work.  At  one  end  a  long  rack  of  tools, 
lumber,  and  twists  of  reed  and  raffia,  stood  ready  for 
work.  A  sewing  machine  occupied  one  corner  and  a 
book  case  another.  Pictures  there  were  in  plenty, 
with  here  and  there  a  cast  or  a  plant. 


178     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

The  teacher  was  a  fine  strong  man  who  wanted 
to  understand  and  help  children.  He  could  play 
ball,  tell  a  story,  tie  up  a  sore  finger,  give  an  arith- 
metic lesson,  with  equal  enthusiasm  and  apprecia- 
tion; and  he  never  lost  his  poise,  not  even  when  I 
sent  him  the  "  Five." 

"  The  Five "  were  sturdy  youngsters  from  the 
fourth  and  fifth  years,  a  monitor-teasing,  pedlar- 
baiting,  neighbourhood-disturbing  group  —  strong 
on  ball  games  and  street  fights;  the  joy  of  the  small 
boy  and  the  bane  of  the  teachers'  lives.  About  the 
middle  of  the  term  their  teachers  discovered  that 
they  were  going  to  be  left  back  at  the  term-end  un- 
less some  radical  change  took  place.  I  sent  the 
14  Five  "  to  the  Special. 

By-and-by  I  went  in  to  see  how  they  were  doing. 
The  teacher  was  busy  teaching  a  group  to  add  frac- 
tions; the  remaining  groups  were  disposed  about  the 
room.  *  The  Five  "  were  around  a  big  table  very 
busy.  "  Corduroys  "  was  in  command  as  of  right  and 
usage.  "  Put  away  the  pads  and  take  your  readers," 
he  ordered.  "  Now  '  Specks,'  begin.  Go  slow. 
The  words  I  don't  get  will  be  counted  a  miss." 

11  But  I  — " 

11  Begin,  or  you'll  lose  one  for  the  argument." 

They  read  around  the  table  until  the  lesson  was 
completed.  Once  they  stopped  to  have  an  "  argu- 
ment." 


Our  School  i?9 

"  That  Mr-round  the  island,"  read  "  Beef." 

"That's  wrong.  It's  sur-round — "  corrected 
Corduroys. 

"  'Tis  not.  A  minute  ago  you  said  jwr-face,  now 
you  say  sur-round.  If  it's  jwr-face  then  it's  sur- 
round" Beef  grinned  in  triumph. 

For  an  instant  Corduroys  was  held,  then  his  face 
lighted. 

"  Get  the  Dictionary,  Specks." 

"  No,  you  don't.  I  don't  know  the  Dictionary. 
You  ask  teacher  when  it's  our  turn  with  him  to-day. 
What  he  says  I  stand  for." 

"  How  are  they  getting  on?  "  I  asked  the  teacher. 

'*  Great.  I  wouldn't  ask  any  better.  They  take 
turns  in  teaching  but  they  generally  fall  back  to  Cor- 
duroys. They'll  more  than  make  their  grade.  I 
wish  you'd  have  Specks'  eyes  looked  at  though.  I 
think  his  glasses  are  not  right.  He  gets  very  irri- 
table after  he  uses  his  eyes  for  a  time." 

In  the  Ungraded  Room  were  the  children  of  de- 
fective minds.  At  one  time  these  were  our  disci- 
plinary cases :  now  they  were  our  wards,  to  be  studied 
and  given  every  opportunity  for  growth. 

One  big  overgrown  boy  had  in  the  first  months 
given  us  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  As  usual  we  ap- 
pealed to  his  parents  but  they  could  do  nothing 
for  us.  Morris  was  worse  at  home  than  he  was  at 


i8o     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

school.  School  time  came  as  a  blessed  relief  to  his 
mother.  Then  he  was  examined  and  put  in  the  Un- 
graded class.  Soon  I  missed  him  from  the  complaint 
list  and  went  to  see  what  he  was  doing  that  kept  him 
out  of  mischief. 

When  I  entered  his  room  he  was  busy  with  a  pile 
of  stiff  white  paper,  a  brush,  a  pot  of  paint  and  a 
stencil  set.  He  leaned  a  card  against  the  blackboard 
to  dry.  It  read,  "  9  eggs  25  cents."  "  Teacher," 
he  called  out,  "  how  do  you  spell  bread?  "  Slowly 
the  teacher  spelled  over  the  heads  of  three  little  girls 
she  was  helping  thread  big  needles  —  b-r-e-a-d. 
With  his  tongue  curling  around  the  corners  of  his 
mouth,  fingers  tightly  knotted  about  a  very  thick, 
bright,  yellow  pencil,  Morris  printed  each  letter  on  a 
slip  of  paper.  Then  assuming  a  very  important, 
bustling  air  he  began  painting  a  card  for  u  bread." 

"  What  is  it?  "  I  whispered  to  the  teacher. 

"  He's  crazy  to  work  in  a  grocery  store,"  she  an- 
swered. "  He  has  a  job  for  the  afternoons.  I've 
made  the  grocery  shop  the  centre  of  his  work  and  it's 
surprising  how  he's  getting  on.  He  works  his  arith- 
metic on  the  grocery  slips.  He  tries  to  read  any- 
thing that  has  to  do  with  the  grocery  business  so  I'm 
making  a  reader  for  him  out  of  cuttings  in  this  blank 
book,"  and  the  teacher  pulled  a  long  strand  of  raffia 
through  a  big  needle.  "  He's  just  what  you  see  him 
now  all  the  time.  For  a  day  or  so  he  was  sulky  and 


Our  School  181 

ugly  but  I  saw  him  with  the  grocery  slips  and  talked 
to  him  about  them  and  he's  been  going  ahead  on  that 
line  ever  since."  Another  strand  was  drawn  through 
another  big  needle. 

"  Lucy's  at  her  loom,  you  see.  Usually  she 
threads  these  needles  for  the  little  ones  but  I  don't 
want  to  bother  her  to-day.  She  has  one  of  her  fussy 
spells.  When  she's  like  that  she  can't  do  a  thing 
with  her  academic  work  but  she  works  beautifully  at 
her  loom.  It's  strange  but  it  seems  to  soothe  and 
rest  her.  She'll  work  at  it  maybe  all  morning  — 
then  go  to  her  table  and  do  her  lessons  very  nicely. 
We  have  an  order  for  the  rug  she's  making  and  that's 
a  great  help.  When  her  mother  found  that  the  work 
had  money  value  she  wasn't  so  much  worried  about 
Lucy's  spending  time  on  it  and  stopped  scolding  her. 
She  even  sent  us  some  rags  for  the  rug.  So  that's 
settled. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  Morris  to  the  garden.  He 
needs  more  physical  work.  I  can  tie  it  up  to  the 
grocery  store  and  once  he  gets  started  he  will  like  it 
well  enough  to  go  on." 

As  I  turned  to  leave  the  room  the  teacher  said, 
"  It's  story  time.  I  wish  you  had  time  to  tell  us  a 
story." 

"  Of  course  I  have.     I  know  a  fine  one." 

Like  magic  the  work  disappeared  into  drawers  and 
closets.  Morris  ran  to  the  corner  of  the  room  where 


1 82     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

a  long  roll  leaned,  swung  it  up  the  centre  of  the  room 
and  rolled  it  out,  "  the  magic  carpet."  Every  child 
sat  down  upon  it  and  the  story  began. 

I  knew  when  I  went  away  that  the  older  ones 
would  go  on  with  their  bench  work  and  the  littlest 
ones  build  a  story  of  blocks  on  the  Magic  Rug.  By 
and  by  the  teacher  would  play  softly  on  the  piano  and 
the  little  ones  would  sleep  while  the  older  ones  went 
down  to  the  gymnasium. 

We  had  difficulty  with  the  little  foreigners  who 
found  their  way  to  the  school.  It  is  so  hard  not  to 
be  able  to  make  oneself  understood,  especially  when 
one  is  little. 

"  Plis.  I  make  finger,  she  no  let  foot."  This 
from  a  tearful  boy  brought  to  me  by  a  vexed  teacher. 
The  vexation  vanished  in  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Really,"  she  gasped,  "  I  can't  do  anything  with 
him.  He  means  he  raised  his  hand  and  I  wouldn't 
let  him  go  out  of  the  room.  He  doesn't  know  a 
word  I  say,  and  I  don't  understand  him  a  bit.  Just 
now  I  thought  by  his  motions  that  he  wanted  to 
change  his  seat.  I  wouldn't  let  him  and  he  ran  out 
of  the  room.  He  didn't  come  back  and  I  went  to 
look  for  him  and  I  found  him  standing  in  the  hall 
weeping.  I  know  now  he  was  asking  to  leave  the 
room  but  next  time  he'll  try  it  a  different  way  because 
I  didn't  understand  this  time,  and  I'll  get  it  wrong 


Our  School  183 

again.  Seriously,  I'm  wasting  time  though.  I  have 
to  stop  for  him  so  many  times  and  the  class  must  wait 
for  me  and  lose  part  of  each  lesson." 

We  asked  for  the  "  C  "  or  the  Foreign  Class  for 
all  such  children.  We  had  about  thirty.  The 
teacher  assigned  to  the  foreigners  was  an  older 
teacher,  one  who  had  been  a  foreigner  as  I  had  been. 
Together  we  planned  for  these  children.  We  com- 
pared notes  and  resolved  that  our  difficulties  should 
not  be  theirs.  There  should  be  plenty  of  toys,  pic- 
tures, maps,  stories,  dramatics,  games,  action  and 
colour  and  music.  And  there  should  be  no  diffi- 
culty or  misunderstanding  about  leaving  the  room. 

There  was  an  ornamental  balcony  open  to  the  sky 
and  facing  the  park.  The  Board  turned  it  into  a 
room  for  us  and  here  we  put  the  anaemic  children. 

At  first  they  didn't  like  it.  They  wanted  to  do 
just  what  the  other  children  did.  But  the  teacher 
was  "  lovely  " —  they  couldn't  help  loving  her.  She 
had  rosy  cheeks  and  shiny  eyes  and  little  wisps  of 
curls  that  danced  about  and  when  she  said,  "  I'm  so 
glad  you  came,"  they  couldn't  help  being  glad  of  it 
themselves. 

Then  there  were  crackers  and  milk.  A  mother 
came  in  to  serve  it  and  the  teacher  said,  "  I'm  so 
glad  you  came,"  and  instantly  there  was  a  proud  son 
of  his  mother  helping  give  out  the  mugs  and  another 


1 84     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

one  vowing  inwardly  that  it  should  be  his  turn  an- 
other day. 

But  the  best  was  to  come.  Long  chairs  were 
drawn  out  and  each  child  wrapped  in  a  blanket  lay 
very,  very  quiet,  wondering  what  was  to  happen 
next.  Teacher  sat  where  everybody  could  see  and 
hear  and  began  to  tell  a  story  of  creeping,  creeping 
bunnies  who  were  sleeping,  sleeping,  sleeping,  and  no 
one  ever  knew  what  happened  to  those  bunnies  for 
no  matter  how  many  times  the  story  started  it  never 
got  past  the  sleeping,  sleeping  part. 

The  children  grew  taller  and  heavier  and  rosier. 
The  place  of  honour  was  accorded  the  pupil  who 
had  gained  the  greatest  number  of  pounds  during 
the  week  and  the  race  was  close. 

At  the  end  of  the  term  we  found  their  academic 
work  was  ahead  of  that  of  their  former  classmates. 
Some  of  these  children  who  in  their  weakness  had 
been  a  serious  drag  upon  the  classroom  had  done 
more  than  a  term's  work  in  the  open  air. 

Time  and  again  we  found  that  the  children  with 
whom  we  failed,  the  bad  children,  were  physically  or 
mentally  unprepared.  They  had  adenoids  or  bad 
teeth  or  poor  digestion  or  sluggish  livers;  their  eyes 
were  weak  or  their  ears  were  dull;  their  nervous  re- 
actions were  slowed  up  or  over  stimulated.  They 
were  in  no  condition  to  be  taught  what  we  wanted  to 
teach  them. 


Our  School  185 

We  had  first  examined  and  regrouped  the  most 
striking  cases  of  failure.  These  proved  to  be  the 
physically  and  mentally  retarded  children.  Still 
we  failed  with  a  group  in  each  class.  We  couldn't 
get  the  whole  fifty  to  measure  up.  We  called  in  the 
specialists  and  they  examined  and  regrouped  the 
stragglers.  Those  who  showed  eye  defects  had 
glasses  fitted  and  these  were  tested  monthly  for  a 
year. 

The  Speech  Defects  were  searched  out,  classified 
and  drilled  daily  by  a  speech  expert. 

So  we  struggled  on.  Every  time  a  teacher  re- 
ported a  child  as  falling  below  the  class  standard,  we 
examined  and  classified  him  anew  with  the  idea  that 
it  was  his  duty  to  reach  that  standard  and  ours  to 
help  him  to  it.  We  did  this  in  the  spirit  of  service. 
We  must  help  him  to  realise  himself  and  our  only 
medium  was  the  Course  of  Study,  the  seat,  the  book, 
the  teacher. 

Out  of  the  seeming  confusion  of  the  great  school's 
activities, —  the  children  playing,  studying,  shout- 
ing; teachers  chatting,  gravely  conferring  with 
fathers  and  mothers,  visiting,  teaching,  presiding  at 
parents'  meetings;  fathers  and  mothers  coming  and 
going,  praising,  criticising,  helping, —  emerged  the 
great  idea  of  our  school  —  Service. 

Service  based  upon  the  appreciation  of  the  best 
that  was  in  all  of  us  —  parents  and  children,  principal 


1 86     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

and  teachers.  The  slow  realisation  that  we  were, 
all  of  us,  "  just  folks,"  struggling  under  the  limita- 
tions of  humanity,  was  teaching  us  toleration  and 
generosity  and  sympathy  for  each  other.  If  our 
bones  ached  with  the  toil  of  the  day  we  no  longer 
nursed  them  in  isolation.  We  talked  over  the  day's 
happenings,  laughed  at  the  funny  ones  and  stored  the 
others  away  as  experience. 

I  met  the  Assistant  Principal.  She  was  coming 
from  a  visit  to  the  regular  classrooms  studying  the 
records  she  had  made  in  her  note  book.  She  looked 
up  as  I  neared  her  with  a  worry  line  between  her 
eyes. 

"What  is  it?  "I  asked. 

"  I've  examined  and  classified  and  followed  up  the 
individual  child  and  yet  I  go  to  the  classroom  and  find 
the  group  that  can't  *  make  it.'  There's  something 
missing  in  the  classrooms."  She  snapped  the  rubber 
band  on  her  note  book  and  the  worry  line  grew 
deeper.  "  Do  you  know,  I  feel  like  the  old  woman  in 
children's  story.  '  And  still  she  sat  —  and  still  she 
spun  and  still  she  sighed  for  —  company.'  Does  one 
have  to  be  feebleminded  or  crippled  or  bad  before 
he  gets  a  chance  to  do  things?  All  we  have  is 
pencils  and  paper  and  text  books.  No  tools,  no  gar- 
den —  fifty  to  a  class, '  nothing  doing '  for  us  normal 
citizens.  We  just  sit  and  spin. 


Our  School  187 

"  You've  tried  to  remove  every  obstacle  in  the  way 
of  the  children's  progress,  yet  we  seem  to  get  no  fur- 
ther ahead.  We  aren't  alive.  Do  you  realise  that 
the  little  children  may  talk  aloud  about  half  a  min- 
ute every  two  hours?  That's  about  all  we  can  allow 
them.  When  are  they  going  to  learn  to  talk  Eng- 
lish? They  move  about  only  at  the  teacher's  com- 
mand and  they  soon  learn  to  wait  for  it  and  when  they 
reach  the  upper  grades  they  have  no  self  direction 
whatever. 

"  We're  not  to  blame.  It's  the  size  of  our  classes. 
Fifty  to  a  teacher  and  two  classes  in  a  room.  We're 
simply  turning  out  more  candidates  for  Specials  in- 
stead of  making  the  Specials  useless.  I'm  disheart- 
ened," and  she  turned  wearily  toward  the  office. 

"  Yes,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  that's  as  far  as  we've 
got.  Picking  up  those  that  fall,  and  doing  nothing 
to  keep  them  from  falling.". 

Ill 

Six  years  passed.  The  school  that  once  held  a 
little  more  than  two  thousand  children  had  grown 
again  to  almost  four  thousand.  As  more  children 
came  the  classes  had  to  double  up  in  the  use  of  class- 
rooms. 

Soon  there  was  little  place  and  little  time  for  the 
afternoon  activities.  The  classroom  time  now  re- 


1 88     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

duced  from  five  to  four  hours  was  all  too  short  to 
accomplish  the  curriculum  work.  One  group  of 
children  came  from  8 130  to  10:30  and  from  12  rjo  to 
2  rjo  —  another  group  came  from  10:30  to  12:30 
and  from  2 :3O  to  4 :3O.  Five  times  a  day  the  gong 
rang  —  I  heard  its  resonance  from  floor  to  floor,  call- 
ing, calling  to  the  children  to  move.  Five  times  a 
day  I  heard  the  measured  rhythm  of  many,  many  feet. 
I  saw  the  surge  of  sound,  and  colour  and  motion,  chil- 
dren going  in,  children  going  out,  eyes  front,  hats 
off,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp  and  then  silence. 

All  the  rooms  in  the  building  except  those  used  by 
the  special  children  had  to  be  given  up  all  day  long 
to  learning  the  three  R's.  There  was  no  spot  where 
the  child  in  the  regular  grades  could  turn  for  free- 
dom. The  biggest  part  of  the  Assembly  work  had 
to  be  omitted,  because  the  rooms,  cut  off  by  rolling 
doors,  had  to  be  used  for  teaching  the  rudiments  of 
learning.  The  registers  in  each  of  these  normal 
classes  was  full  to  the  seating  capacity  —  fifty  to  a 
teacher.  Those  in  the  Specials  were  kept  down  to 
thirty. 

4  There's  a  group  in  the  fifth  grade  that  must  be 
scattered,"  said  my  assistant.  "  I  don't  understand 
it  but  every  once  in  a  while  that  happens.  A  group 
of  difficult  cases  get  into  one  class  and  what  one  over- 
looks the  other  remembers.  We  might  scatter  them 
through  the  classes  —  put  some  in  morning  time  and 


Our  School  189 

some  in  the  afternoon  so  that  they'll  be  separated, 
and  if  that  can't  be  done  they  should  be  assigned  to  a 
strong  teacher  next  term.  Even  with  all  our  sorting 
we  get  one  of  these  classes  now  and  then  that  will  not 
learn.  I  am  afraid  thirty  per  cent,  of  this  class  will 
have  to  be  left  back.  But  even  at  that  we'll  promote 
ninety  per  cent,  of  the  school.  Pretty  good,  don't 
you  think?  " 

"  Very  good  indeed.     How  did  it  happen?  " 

She  looked  a  bit  astonished.  "  Why  we've 
worked  like  dogs  to  get  it.  I  hoped  for  more  but  we 
can't  seem  to  make  it.  Do  what  you  will  there's 
always  a  group  of  holdovers.  The  teacher  has  too 
many  children,  too  little  time  and  always  a  fear  that 
she  won't  finish  the  term's  work;  that  we  will  find 
fault,  that  the  superintendent  won't  be  pleased,  or 
that  her  class  will  not  be  up  to  the  standard  of  the 
other  classes." 

As  she  started  to  leave  the  office  I  said,  "  I'm 
tremendously  interested  in  the  ninety  per  cent,  we  are 
going  to  promote.  Do  you  feel  that  they've  learned? 
Are  they  really  taking  in  what  we  are  teaching 
them?" 

The  assistant  laughed.  "  You  are  always  look- 
ing behind  the  scenes." 

"  Sometimes  I've  been  afraid  that  the  real  thing 
wasn't  there  even  when  the  children  answered  with 
seeming  intelligence." 


190     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

The  next  day  I  went  into  a  first  grade  class.  It 
happened  that  my  assistant  was  there  looking  on. 
The  class  was  just  about  to  begin  the  reading  lesson. 
At  a  signal  from  the  teacher  seven  little  fellows 
sprang  up  and  distributed  the  readers  to  their  rows. 

"  Open  to  lesson  six.  It  has  a  big  six  at  the  top 
and  the  duck  picture,"  said  the  teacher.  "  Ready? 
First  row,  begin!  " 

The  first  row  sprang  up  in  a  flash.  Each  child 
read  one  sentence.  Sometimes  it  meant  five  words, 
sometimes  eleven,  rarely  more.  Row  after  row  in 
quick  succession  read.  No  child  hesitated:  no  child 
made  a  mistake  until  the  last  row  was  reached. 

11  The  holdovers,"  whispered  the  assistant. 

These  children  read  slowly,  pointing  at  each  word 
and  sometimes  miscalling  one. 

I  knew  what  was  in  the  assistant's  mind  when  she 
went  to  the  board  and  printed  a  jingle  using  only 
words  that  had  occurred  in  the  reading  lesson. 

The  dog,  the  fox,  the  cat, 

One  day, 
Woke  up, 

And  said, 

"  O,  a  rainy  day. 
We  are  sad, 

It's  too  bad, 

We  cannot  play." 

But  the  duck  said,  "  Luck,  Luck, 
This  is  my  own  day." 


Our  School  191 

"  Who  can  read  my  story?  "  she  said. 

A  troubled  silence  followed. 

"  I  make  a  different  g,"  whispered  the  teacher. 

"  Fix  it  up  if  you  think  that  will  help?  "  said  the 
assistant. 

Still  nobody  volunteered  to  read  the  story. 

"  Think,  children,"  urged  the  teacher.  "  You 
know  those  words." 

Still  sorrowful  silence. 

Again  the  teacher  went  to  the  rescue. 

"What  is  this  word?"  laying  a  pointer  tip  on 
"  dog." 

"  Dog,"  came  the  answer. 

"  Certainly.     Now  what's  this  one?" 

"Foxl"  ' 
*  To  be  sure.     Now.  this  one." 

"  Cat." 

"  Now  read  the  first  story." 

"  The  dog,  the  fox,  the  cat  — " 

"  See,  they  know  it.  But  they  want  to  do  it  my 
way." 

"  Ask  a  child  to  read  the  line  about  the  duck," 
said  the  assistant. 

The  teacher  called  a  bright  looking  child  to  read. 

"  Study  it,  William." 

She  pointed  to  each  word  along  the  line  and  the 
little  boy  nodded  vigorously  toward  her  as  he  fol- 
lowed the  pointer  tip  with  his  eyes  and  lips. 


192     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

William  pointed  at  each  word  with  a  little  stab- 
bing motion  and  jerked  his  body  forward  and  back 
as  he  recognised  each  word  and  went  on  to  the  next. 
With  a  final  stab  at  the  period  he  straightened  to  at- 
tention and  read  — 

"  But  the  duck  said,  *  Quack,  quack! '  " 

"  The  last  word,  William,  look  again,"  and  the 
pointer  tip  guided  his  eyes  to  the  right  place. 

William  looked,  first  at  the  word  and  then  at  the 
teacher  —  then  again  at  the  word  and  read,  not  so 
confidently. 

"  But  the  duck  said,  *  quack,  quack! ' 

"  Hands,  children.     What  is  that  word?  " 

Several  hands  came  up  and  one  boy  said,  "  Luck, 
luck." 

"  Why,  William,  I'm  surprised.  You  should 
have  known  that." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  William,  "  but  the  duck  always 
said  *  quack,  quack,'  before." 

As  we  went  out  I  said,  "  Do  you  really  feel  they 
are  ninety  per  cent,  efficient?  " 

It  was  the  children's  own  vocabulary.  They 
were  familiar  with  the  animals  in  the  story.  It  was 
grouped  into  short  phrases.  It  had  the  familiar 
phonic  elements.  It  was  a  jingle.  It  told  a  story, 
yet  the  children  couldn't  read  it.  The  teacher  had 
to  show  the  way  for  each  step.  Without  her  they 


Our  School  193 

were  helpless.  The  duck  must  always  say  "  quack, 
quack." 

"  I've  tried  that  same  thing  a  half  dozen  times 
this  term,  but  I  get  nowhere,"  said  the  assistant 
wearily.  '  The  teacher  says,  *  I  am  coming  up  for 
a  seventh  year  increase  of  salary.  The  superintend- 
ent only  asks  what  is  in  the  book.  With  fifty  chil- 
dren in  this  room  it's  all  I  can  do  to  get  the  children 
to  learn  the  grade  words  and  the  sentences  in  the 
book.' 

"And  after  all  aren't  we  teachers  just  that  way? 
Haven't  we  been  taught  to  be  afraid  from  the  very 
first  day  we  came  to  the  Kindergarten  class  and  the 
teachers. said,  '  On  your  toes.  Not  a  sound,'  as  we 
passed  the  principal's  office?  Haven't  we  been 
trained  to  give  perfect  results?  Haven't  we  been 
trained  to  fear  making  a  mistake,  to  fear  the  respon- 
sibility of  working  out  our  own  ideas?  This  is  a 
school  world  and  we  always  say  '  quack,  quack,'  be- 
cause we  have  said  it  before,  and  it  was  right." 

As  promotion  time  drew  nearer  I  thought  more 
and  more  about  these  children  who  were  to  be  pro- 
moted or  left  back.  We  had  taken  out  of  the  regu- 
lar grades  the  children  that  were  weak,  so  that  the 
others  could  progress  and  yet  the  average  child  was 
not  doing  work  that  made  him  independent  of  the 
teacher. 


194     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

IV 

I  lived  only  a  short  distance  from  the  school.  I 
had  settled  in  the  neighbourhood  to  get  the  feel  of 
the  school  in  a  rather  intimate  way.  Looking  out 
of  my  window  morning  or  evening  I  could  see  the 
school  building  towering  over  the  trees.  It  was  only 
a  short  walk  through  the  park  and  all  the  many 
hours  I  would  otherwise  have  spent  in  travel  were 
saved  for  the  school.  It  was  so  convenient  being 
near  the  school.  A  neighbour  could  drop  in  any 
time.  A  teacher  now  and  then  might  stop  in  on  his 
way  home.  A  child  or  a  group  of  them  was  sure 
to  appear  on  a  holiday.  It  was  not  so  difficult  to  go 
out  of  an  evening  and  meet  some  of  the  people  and 
talk  over  the  needs  of  the  children. 

We  never  grew  tired  of  talking  about  the  needs  of 
the  children.  We  said  the  same  things  over  and 
over  again  and  the  oftener  we  said  them  the  more 
we  believed  we  were  right. 

I  do  not  know  how  many  times  we  talked  over 
better  opportunities  for  the  children,  more  vital 
things  to  do  in  school,  or  Parents'  Associations. 
Somewhere  in  the  course  of  the  conversation  some 
one  was  sure  to  explode.  He  would  become 
wrought  up  at  the  slow  progress  of  things,  at  the 
apparent  indifference  of  school  officials,  and  we 
would  listen  and  laugh  and  plan  the  next  move. 


Our  School  195 

The  walk  across  the  park  gave  me  a  good  start 
each  day,  and  brought  me  back  refreshed  at  night. 
I  watched  the  seasons  coming  and  going  in  their 
slow,  calm,  measured  way.  The  trees  would  bud, 
flower,  fruit,  and  sleep  again.  Progress  here  had 
its  own  measured  steps  and  when  I  became  impatient 
at  school  progress  the  trees  would  speak  to  me  and 
I  would  smile  and  go  on  again.  Many  times  as  I 
walked  among  them  I  would  catch  the  smile  and  the 
nod  of  a  stranger  who  thought  my  smile  was  in- 
tended for  him. 

Sometimes  I  would  run  over  in  my  mind  the 
things  we  had  done  to  make  the  child's  lot  better. 
There  were  the  clubs  and  the  music  classes  at  the  set- 
tlement house,  the  children's  departments  at  the  dis- 
pensary, the  garden,  the  playground,  the  dramatics, 
the  poets,  the  music,  the  tree  planting,  the  special 
classes,  the  speech  training,  the  school  visitor,  the 
parents  helping  in  the  school,  the  big,  human  friend- 
liness of  the  whole  mass,  children,  teachers,  and  par- 
ents. 

Then  my  mind  unfailingly  went  to  the  classroom 
and  the  class  teacher  and  I  tried  to  figure  out  what 
was  happening  there  to  make  for  freedom  and  cour- 
age. "  It  isn't  what  you  teach  the  children  that 
counts,"  the  old  principal  who  loved  school  children 
had  told  me.  "  They  forget  most  of  the  knowledge 
given  them.  What  they  need  is  the  habit  of  free 


196     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

thinking  and  the  spirit  of  work.1'  How  much 
thought  was  there  in  the  classroom?  How  much 
independent  work? 

Nowhere  did  the  children,  save  those  of  the  handi- 
capped classes,  learn  by  personal  experiences,  nor 
did  they  act  independently.  The  classrooms  had  not 
been  built  to  permit  that.  The  classes  were 
crowded.  The  children  had  to  move  in  class  units 
and  exactly  on  time.  The  clamour  of  the  gong  was 
insistent.  How  rude  and  how  frequent  were  its  in- 
terruptions. I  felt  the  hurry  to  get  the  facts  into  the 
children's  heads.  I  felt  the  tension  in  the  child's 
body  as  he  bent  to  the  routine.  I  saw  the  teachers 
standing  over  all,  talking,  measuring,  urging. 

Here  was  "  Our  School  "  still  in  the  grip  of  tradi- 
tion, rules,  records,  and  endless  routine.  "  My 
School "  was  still  a  dream  school. 

But  growth  is  a  slow  affair.  At  least,  or  at 
best,  perhaps  I  should  say,  we  teachers  had  touched 
the  people.  We  had  carried  the  school  out  of  its 
four  walls  and  the  school  had  been  touched  by  the 
breath  of  reality,  humanity.  Socialising  the  school 
had  humanised  it 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  DIRECTION   OF   THE    NEW   START 


THE  schools  will  change  for  the  better  when  their 
life  is  made  basically  different  from  what  it  has  been. 

They  are  pointed  in  the  direction  of  the  funda- 
mentals of  knowledge  but  working  with  the  tools  of 
the  classicists.  They  have  developed  and  devel- 
oped until  we  find  life  on  one  side,  that  is  outside  the 
school,  and  learning  on  the  other  side,  that  is  inside 
the  school.  Now  the  schools  must  be  pointed  so 
that  life  and  the  school  become  one. 

To  begin  with,  better  school  conditions  must  be 
provided  for  the  youngest  children.  The  first  steps 
in  child  teaching  must  be  sound.  The  primary  years 
of  school  must  be  worth  while.  Unless  the  basic 
structure  is  real,  soul  satisfying,  higher  education  will 
be  halting  and  futile.  The  child  is  entitled  to  a  fine 
start  in  his  life's  journey  if  he  is  to  have  a  fair  chance 
of  carrying  his  head  high  and  his  shoulders  straight. 

He  comes  to  school  a  distinct  personality.  He 
is  joyous,  spontaneous,  natural,  free  —  But  from 

197 


198     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

the  first  day,  instead  of  watching,  encouraging  that 
personality,  the  school  begins  to  suppress  it  and  keeps 
up  the  process  year  in  and  year  out.  By  and  by 
we  begin  to  search  for  the  individuality  that  has  been 
submerged.  We  make  tempting  offers  to  the  stu- 
dent in  the  high  school  and  in  the  college  —  we  give 
him  better  teachers,  better  equipment,  greater  free- 
dom, more  leisure,  smaller  classes,  direct  experiences. 
We  call  upon  him  to  stand  out,  to  face  the  problems 
of  life  honestly,  squarely;  to  be  himself.  How  blind 
we  are!  First  we  kill  and  then  we  weep  for  that 
which  we  have  slain. 

We  do  not  look  upon  the  children  as  an  important 
economic  factor.  Children  are  a  problem  to  the 
parent  and  teacher  but  not  to  the  race. 

Do  you  raise  pigs?  The  government  is  almost 
tearful  in  its  solicitude  for  their  health  and  welfare. 
The  Agricultural  Bureau  sends  you  scientific  data 
gathered  at  great  pains  and  expense.  But  do  you 
raise  children?  Ah.  They  are  very  expensive. 
And  there  are  so  many  of  them!  One  teacher  to 
fifty  is  the  best  we  can  do  for  you.  Teachers  who 
are  specialists  in  their  profession?  Oh,  now  really! 
You  know  we  could  never  afford  that.  We  must  pay 
for  high-priced  teachers  for  the  high  schools  and 
upper  grades  but  for  the  little  children  —  all  you 
want  is  a  pleasant  personality  that  is  able  to  teach  the 
rudiments  of  learning.  There's  not  much  to  do  in 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       199 

those  grades  —  just  the  rudiments,  you  know. 
There's  no  disciplining  to  do  there,  the  children  are 
so  easily  suppressed.  It's  only  in  the  upper  grades 
we  have  the  trouble  ! 

Stupid  and  topsy-turvy! 

We  need  the  scientist,  the  child  specialist,  the  art- 
ist in  the  first  year  of  school.  We  need  few  children 
to  a  teacher  and  plenty  of  space  to  move  about  in. 

It's  there  the  teacher  should  eagerly,  anxiously, 
reverently,  watch  for  the  little  spark  of  genius,  of 
soul,  of  individuality,  and  so  breathe  the  breath  of 
life  upon  it  that  it  can  never  again  be  crushed  or  re- 
pressed. 

We  must  spend  more  money  on  elementary  educa- 
tion if  the  money  we  now  spend  on  higher  education 
is  to  bring  forth  results  that  are  commensurate  with 
our  national  needs.  We  spend  fifty  dollars  a  year 
on  the  education  of  a  child  and  ten  times  that  amount 
on  the  education  of  a  young  college  man. 

We  must  keep  the  three  R's,  but  they  must  change 
with  the  changing  social  needs.  They  must  keep 
pace  with  the  world,  and  in  fact  a  little  ahead  of  the 
practical  world  so  that  they  will  be  dynamic.  Con- 
stantly they  must  be  in  touch  with  the  strong  life  cur- 
rents about  the  child,  the  factory,  the  mill,  the  shop, 
the  market,  the  store,  the  garden,  the  home. 

The  school  must  be  enriched  so  that  the  child  can 


200     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

experiment  with  actual  things  from  the  very  first 
day  he  comes  to  school.  Play  rooms  and  games,  ani- 
mals and  plants,  wood  and  nails  must  take  their  place 
side  by  side  with  books  and  words. 

Be  it  remembered,  however,  that  a  shop,  a  studio, 
a  play-room,  may  become  as  formal,  as  dead,  as  anti- 
quated, as  rigid  as  any  phase  of  the  present  book 
school,  if  these  activities  are  developed  by  rule  and 
applied  to  all  children  regardless  of  tastes  or  tend- 
encies, in  accordance  with  a  fixed  time  schedule  that 
has  neither  elbow  room  nor  leisure. 

Just  as  we  have  failed  to  throw  out  the  useless  in 
the  book  study  so  we  may  fail  to  throw  out  the  use- 
less in  the  new  things  to  come,  if  we  centre  attention 
on  them  rather  than  on  the  child. 

The  school  must  constantly  ask,  "  What  is  the  ef- 
fect of  my  programme  on  the  soul  growth  of  the  chil- 
dren ?  Why  is  it  that  my  programme  does  not  reach 
all  children?  What  can  I  do  to  keep  in  touch  with 
ideas  that  are  vigorous  and  young?  What  can  I  do 
to  keep  sane,  human,  far-seeing?  How  can  I  re- 
spect the  child's  prolonged  infancy  and  keep  him 
from  facing  the  struggle  of  the  labour  market  until 
he  is  mentally  and  physically  fit?  How  can  I  trans- 
late efficiency,  goodness,  will  training,  citizenship, 
parental  duty  into  child  happiness?  " 

The  child  is  the  permanent  factor.  The  expres- 
sion of  himself  for  the  common  good  is  his  purpose  in 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       201 

life.  Service  that  is  in  harmony  with  the  best  in- 
stincts of  his  soul  is  the  child's  mission  in  life.  Serv- 
ice always  carries  with  it  some  one  else.  Talking, 
co-operation,  fun,  openness,  are  part  of  its  very  be- 
ing. It  grows  with  the  spirit  of  the  crowd  from 
which  it  derives  hope,  life,  strength,  emotion. 

I  call  this  expression  of  self  for  the  common  good 
the  art  instinct  of  the  child  and  I  say  that  art  puts  the 
soul  into  everything  the  child  does,  whether  he  sweeps 
a  floor,  washes  a  wall,  draws  a  picture,  writes  a  poem, 
sings  a  song.  The  things  he  makes,  the  poems  he 
reads,  the  compositions  he  writes,  the  games  he  plays, 
the  clay  he  moulds,  all  these  need  the  force  of  an 
idea  that  is  inspiring  because  it  has  the  forward  pull 
of  this  social  art. 

To  take  the  child  out  of  the  narrowness  of  the 
printed  page  and  put  his  energy  back  into  the  narrow- 
ness of  the  furrow  of  the  plough  will  not  make  for 
complete  living.  The  substitution  of  direct  expe- 
riences for  indirect  ones  leads  nowhere.  Both  are 
needed,  work  and  analysis  of  work,  study  and  the 
application  of  study  and  through  it  all,  sincere  artis- 
tic expression  in  answer  to  the  needs  of  each  indi- 
vidual soul. 

Change  the  school  so  its  life  is  continuous. 
Change  the  school  so  that  the  child  may  grow  by  in- 
timate contact  with  older  children  and  the  teachers, 
the  ones  who  carry  the  responsibility.  Change  the 


202     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

school  so  that  each  child  is  individualised  and  not 
merged,  so  that  the  child  has  leisure  to  grow  and  a 
desire  to  grow  in  the  right  direction. 

Change  the  school  so  that  it  will  permit  the  chil- 
dren to  act  for  themselves  and  less  by  rule,  so  that 
it  is  not  the  teacher  who  shows  the  way  but  the  child, 
and  the  teacher  follows  his  lead. 

Change  the  school  so  that  the  external,  imposed 
dogmatism  of  school  discipline  gives  place  to  real 
discipline,  morally  strong,  self-made,  independent. 

We  are  now  at  the  beginning  of  newer  and  richer 
educational  possibilities.  Have  we  the  courage  to 
think  of  the  youngest  child  first,  and  this  time  begin 
our  changes,  not  in  the  college,  the  high  school,  the 
upper  grades,  but  in  the  first  six  years  of  school? 
Have  we  the  courage  to  offer  these  children  oppor- 
tunities for  joyous,  expressive  work?  Have  we  the 
courage  to  change  our  class  education  into  democratic 
education? 

II 

The  first  thing  to  do  then  is  to  change  the  kind  of 
school,  making  it  rich,  making  it  live.  The  second 
thing  to  do  is  to  train  the  teacher  differently. 

If  the  conditions  of  school  life  are  such  that  they 
warp  the  child's  mental  powers,  then  these  same  con- 
ditions warp  the  teacher's  mental  powers.  If  the 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       203 

school  means  arrested  development  for  the  child  it 
means  arrested  development  for  the  teacher. 

What  briefly  is  the  history  of  the  teacher's  train- 
ing? 

At  six  she  goes  into  a  first  year  grade  to  begin 
the  serious  task  of  preparing  for  life.  She  may  be 
too  weak  physically,  or  too  immature  mentally  to 
start  the  routine  of  regular  classroom  work  but  she 
is  six  and  that's  the  age  to  begin. 

For  eight  years  the  child  who  is  to  be  a  teacher 
sits  and  memorises  and  recites,  receives  good  marks 
and  is  promoted.  Her  ability  to  recite  the  allotted 
lessons,  though  no  test  of  spiritual  growth,  of  human 
sympathy,  are  sufficient  for  school  progress. 

Now  the  child  that  is  to  be  a  teacher  is  sent  to 
high  school.  The  same  grind  continues,  the  same 
standards  are  practised.  She  sits,  memorises,  re- 
ceives good  marks  and  is  promoted. 

From  the  first  day  she  began  as  a  child  in  the  baby 
class  the  teacher  learned  to  be  silent.  She  learned 
to  be  impressed.  She  learned  to  yield  to  force.  She 
got  into  the  habit  of  relying  on  the  mind  of  another, 
of  believing  in  books  and  words  rather  than  in 
actions.  She  got  into  the  habit  of  being  afraid  to 
think,  to  act,  she  merely  followed. 

"  Come,  quick  —  eleven  times  twelve  —  think 
now,  why  don't  you  think !  "  said  one  teacher. 

But  what  was  the  child  to  think  about  as  she  stood 


204     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

dejectedly  at  her  seat,  a  harried  look  in  her  eye?  As 
the  teacher  passed  on  to  the  next  girl,  the  child  said, 
*'  I  must  think,  I  must  think  —  next  time  I'll  know." 

The  class  went  to  the  gymnasium.  In  one  corner 
were  the  wands  to  be  used  in  the  day's  drill.  At  once 
she  remembered,  "  I  must  think."  She  left  the  line 
and  was  about  to  take  down  the  wands  from  the  rack 
when  the  teacher  saw  her.  Snap  went  the  teacher's 
thumb  and  finger  and  her  voice  followed  after: 

"  Come  here.  What  are  you  doing  there  without 
permission?  " 

"  Why,  I  thought — "  the  child  began  timidly. 

"You  thought  1  What  right  had  you  to  think? 
I'll  do  the  thinking  for  this  class.  Take  your  place. 
We'll  have  no  more  interruption  from  you." 

And  this  was  part  of  the  teacher's  training. 

Next  the  child  that  is  to  be  a  teacher  goes  to  train- 
ing school.  By  this  time  she  is  almost  a  machine. 
She  knows  what  to  do.  She  continues  to  sit,  to  study 
books,  to  make  recitations,  to  receive  per  cent, 
ratings,  to  be  promoted.  By  and  by  this  child  that  is 
to  be  a  teacher  is  examined,  placed  upon  an  eligible 
list,  and  appointed  to  teach. 

The  child  that  is  now  a  teacher  enters  the  class- 
room, the  history  of  her  training  fresh  in  her  mind. 
She  begins  to  teach  the  children  in  the  way  that  she 
has  learned.  The  supervisor  enters  her  room  and 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       205 

because  of  the  children's  ability  to  reproduce  the  facts 
of  the  curriculum  says,  "  Well  done,"  and  rates  the 
teacher.  The  training  is  nearly  complete. 

Later  on  the  teacher  decides  to  go  back  to  the  Uni- 
versity so  as  to  obtain  promotion,  so  that  she  herself 
may  become  a  supervisor.  When  she  enters  the 
University  what  is  done  for  her?  At  once  she  is  put 
into  a  seat,  and  handed  a  book.  The  professor  talks, 
talks,  talks.  She  writes,  writes,  writes.  Words, 
words,  words !  Examinations  come  and  she  returns 
these  words  to  him.  She  is  marked,  rated  and 
passed.  Now  and  then  there  is  an  exception.  The 
teacher  gets  a  new  point  of  view.  She  goes  back  to 
the  classroom.  But  before  long  the  continuous 
monotony  of  teaching  the  same  thing  in  the  same  way, 
at  the  same  time,  with  the  same  results  has  its  effect 
and  she  succumbs,  dies  spiritually,  intellectually!  — 
Now  the  training  is  quite  complete. 

How  can  the  training  be  changed  so  that  a  new 
type  of  teacher  may  be  evolved? 

Is  there  any  change  that  can  be  made  in  the  ele- 
mentary school  itself?  Is  it  possible  to  vitalise  the 
school  so  that  the  child  who  is  to  be  a  teacher  may 
from  the  beginning  learn  from  contact  with  more 
vital  experience  than  mere  school  book-learning  af- 
fords ? 

If  the  older  children  are  trained  to  assist  in  teach- 
ing the  younger  ones,  helping  in  the  classrooms  with 


2o6     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

the  lessons,  or  leading  the  games  in  the  yards,  then 
even  at  the  age  when  they  enter  the  high  school  they 
know  in  a  dim  way  whether  teaching  is  the  right 
"  calling  "  for  them. 

Can  the  higher  training  include  the  direction  of 
young  children  in  club  life,  the  participation  in  the 
work  of  settlements,  the  study  of  the  home  and  street 
life? 

Should  the  training  school  period  include  work  in 
the  hospital  for  children,  so  that  the  teacher  may 
actually  learn  what  the  physical  needs  of  the  chil- 
dren are,  and  where  to  go  for  help? 

Should  practice  work  be  preparation  for  more  in- 
tensive study  in  the  training  school  and  not  the  finish- 
ing touch  ?  Should  the  student  take  back  to  the  train- 
ing school,  studies  of  individual  children,  their  eco- 
nomic conditions,  their  history,  their  physical  condi- 
tion, their  tendencies,  and  the  attempts  she  has  made 
to  solve  the  problems  they  presented? 

Is  it  right  to  say  that  a  knowledge  of  subject  mat- 
ter and  ways  of  presenting  it  are  only  a  minor  part 
of  the  teacher's  training?  What  controls  methods 
of  teaching?  Subject  matter  or  children? 

The  teacher  must  be  trained  in  this  larger  way 
because  the  burden  of  making  a  better  school  rests  on 
her.  She  has  been  massed,  she  must  cease  to  be  num- 
bers and  be  ONE. 

O  Teacher,  find  your  inspiration  in  your  work  I 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       207 

Find  work  that  will  keep  you  mentally  fresh.  You, 
above  all,  have  need  of  work  that  will  make  you 
grow,  and  what  you  do  for  the  sake  of  the  children 
is  the  only  work  that  gives  you  life.  With  neigh- 
bours, fathers,  mothers,  with  children,  good  and  bad, 
you  must  cast  your  lot  and  as  a  leader  plan  the  future 
of  the  race.  Do  not  go  to  books.  There  is  more 
philosophy  —  big,  broad,  human  philosophy  in  the 
simple  folk  lore  of  some  of  the  poorest  and  most  dis- 
tressed people  than  there  is  in  most  of  the  books  that 
you  read.  It  is  only  when  you  keep  in  constant 
touch  with  humanity  that  you  see  the  child,  more  im- 
portant than  the  curriculum,  than  the  school,  than  the 
per  cents.,  than  promotions. 

To  know  the  child,  to  work  so  that  he  may  grow, 
is  a  far  bigger  thing  than  anything  else  in  the  world. 
You  sometimes  refuse  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
the  child  that  presents  a  problem.  You  cast  him  off, 
because  you  are  school-trained,  not  life-trained. 
You  put  the  problem  up  to  somebody  else.  When 
you  do  that  you  are  lost.  This  is  your  problem. 
Only  touch  with  life  conditions  can  help  solve  it. 

Like  the  child,  you  have  been  so  long  in  bondage, 
dominated,  that  you  have  lost  your  strength,  you  are 
fearful,  you  sometimes  lack  the  courage  of  your  con- 
victions. 

But  there  is  nothing  to  fear. 

Speak    freely,    experiment    boldly.     You    are    a 


2o8     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

greater  artist  than  he  who  paints  a  picture,  than  he 
who  carves  a  statue,  than  he  who  writes  a  book. 
Your  product  is  that  wonderful  thing,  human  con- 
duct! You  are  a  creator!  America  looks  to  you 
for  her  greatness,  her  united  voice,  her  bigness  of 
race! 


Ill 

First  we  must  change  the  life  of  the  school,  mak- 
ing school  experience  life  experiences;  second,  we 
must  change  the  teacher's  training,  making  the 
teacher  life-trained,  instead  of  book-trained;  third, 
we  must  break  the  deadening  influence  of  a  too 
strongly  centralised  system;  we  must  individualise 
the  schools  rather  than  mass  them. 

But  is  it  possible  to  create  public  schools  each  of 
which  will  possess  its  own  individuality,  each  of 
which  will  be  the  ideal  school  of  its  community? 

The  educational  reformer  usually  starts  his  reform 
by  projecting  an  ideal  school.  He  does  this  in  an- 
swer to  what  he  believes  the  best  parent,  usually  the 
well-to-do  parent,  wants,  for  his  children.  The  re- 
former starts  by  carefully  selecting  the  factors  that 
go  to  make  up  the  life  of  the  school.  He  builds  the 
plant,  selects  the  children  and  the  teachers  and  lays 
out  the  work  to  be  done.  He  tries  to  make  his 
school  distinctive,  the  only  one  of  its  kind. 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       209 

Can  the  system  learn  a  lesson  from  the  private 
school  and  the  educational  reformer? 

What  the  school  system  needs  to  understand  is  that 
its  strength  lies,  not  in  the  strength  of  the  central  or- 
ganisation, but  in  the  strength  of  the  individual 
school,  not  in  making  one  school  like  another,  but  in 
making  each  school  a  distinct  unit.  The  need  of  the 
system  is  the  preservation  of  its  units,  so  that  each 
school  can  keep  itself  alive,  wide  awake,  responsive 
to  its  people,  easily  adaptable,  the  best  of  its  kind. 

Before  the  school  site  is  selected  and  before  the 
plans  are  drawn  for  the  building,  the  neighbourhood 
in  which  the  school  is  to  be  located  should  be  studied, 
so  that  the  physical  equipment  of  the  building  will  be 
in  conformity  with  the  needs  of  the  neighbourhood. 

The  neighbourhood  being  regarded  as  a  unit  prob- 
lem, the  school  should  be  put  in  the  civic  centre  of  the 
neighbourhood,  where  the  settlement,  the  hospital, 
the  church,  the  library  and  the  playground  are. 
When  these  are  lacking  then  the  school  should  make 
provision  for  some  of  them  at  least. 

If  the  school  is  the  most  important  unit  in  the 
whole  educational  system,  the  principal  and  his  staff 
are  the  most  important  officials  in  the  system.  Prin- 
cipals and  teachers  should  be  placed  in  each  school 
because  these  principals  and  teachers  are  best  able 
to  meet  the  problem  of  the  school.  The  business  of 
the  system  should  then  be  to  help  those  in  direct  touch 


210     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

with  the  school  problems,  offering  plenty  of  oppor- 
tunity for  growth. 

Each  individual  school  needs  unity  of  organisation. 

There  are  school  buildings  that  are  used  for  day 
schools,  night  schools,  summer  schools,  music  centres, 
recreation  centres,  lectures,  play  centres.  All  these 
activities  are  in  one  building.  All  the  people  come 
from  the  same  district.  All  the  problems  that  the 
varied  activities  serve  are  the  common  group  prob- 
lems. Yet  for  each  activity  there  is  a  separate  head, 
each  independent  of  the  other  and  each  responsible 
to  its  own  department  head. 

The  mere  physical  use  of  the  plant  does  not  mean 
complete  use,  definite  heading  towards  a  desired  end. 
What  is  necessary  is  to  make  all  these  activities  re- 
sponsible to  one  leader  so  that  he  may  co-ordinate 
them,  permit  their  interplay.  We  have  all  the  fea- 
tures of  a  settlement  but  without  a  leader  or  without 
a  council  of  leaders.  The  result  is  isolation  in  the 
very  work  where  there  is  need  of  the  utmost  co- 
ordination. Instead  of  using  the  people  as  the  focal 
point  for  developing  school  activities,  the  system  im- 
poses a  curriculum  that  the  people  must  follow. 

It  is  only  a  school  with  a  continuous  life  and  a 
continuous  responsibility  that  can  keep  in  touch  with 
the  neighbourhood  and,  if  necessary,  help  to  create 
neighbourhood  machinery,  that  will  get  the  parents 
to  work  together. 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       211 

The  great  school  is  one  that  preserves  its  life,  dig- 
nifies it,  holds  itself  responsible  for  the  neighbour- 
hood and  compels  the  neighbourhood  to  rise  to  its 
highest  level. 

Unless  a  school  enters  deeply  into  the  lives  of  the 
people,  that  school  will  not  enter  deeply  into  the 
lives  of  the  children  or  into  the  lives  of  the  teachers. 
Unless  the  school  is  the  great  democratic  socialising 
agency,  it  is  nothing  at  all. 

IV 

First  we  must  change  the  fundamental  mistake, 
that  schools  were  made  only  for  the  three  R's;  sec- 
ond, we  must  change  the  notion  that  teachers  are 
trained  by  being  cast  in  a  mould;  third,  we  must 
change  the  idea  that  one  school  is  to  be  organised 
just  like  another;  fourth,  we  must  change  the  notion 
that  the  school  is  a  cloistered  institution,  by  break- 
ing down  its  walls  and  having  it  come  into  direct 
contact  with  people. 

In  one  school  I  found  a  common  ground  of  ap- 
preciation in  a  co-operative  garden  idea. 

We  chose  two  gardens,  dirty,  garbage  filled  lots 
they  were.  On  one  a  neighbour  street-cleaner  was 
our  partner.  He  was  responsible  for  the  general 
care  of  the  plot.  With  him  worked  children  who 
lived  in  his  neighbourhood. 


212     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

To  the  children,  the  man  working  in  the  soil  was 
a  far  more  important  man  than  the  one  who  was 
sweeping  the  streets.  Father  farmer  was  more  dig- 
nified than  father  street  cleaner.  The  school  had 
dignified  labour  and  the  parent  keeping  in  contact 
with  the  child  had  become  more  hopeful.  The 
school  was  no  longer  apart  from  the  worker,  but  at 
one  with  him.  Somehow  the  idea  that  the  soil  was 
our  common  interest  made  us  forget  that  the  home 
and  the  school  were  different. 

If  it  is  good  to  have  a  garden  where  everybody  can 
see  the  children  at  work,  is  it  not  equally  as  good  to 
put  clay  rooms,  wood-working  rooms  facing  along 
the  streets,  even  as  the  tradesmen's  shops  are,  so  that 
the  passerby  may  stop  and  watch  the  children  at 
work? 

People  have  faith  in  the  school  even  though  they 
do  not  know  what  goes  on  behind  the  school  doors. 
Because  they  have  faith  they  throw  more  and  more 
of  their  own  responsibility  on  the  school  and  the 
school  shoulders  the  burden.  The  process  must  be 
reversed. 

The  school  must  stop  doing  things  for  the  people 
and  get  the  people  to  do  things  for  themselves  by  put- 
ting the  work  before  them  in  such  a  way  that  they 
will  be  able  to  do  it  themselves.  It  is  in  this  move- 
ment out  of  a  cloistered  environment  into  the  com- 
mon lives  of  people  that  the  school  must  share,  be- 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       213 

cause  it  means  enriched  responsibility  through  a  con- 
sciousness of  social  values. 

The  school  must  open  its  doors.  It  must  reach  out 
and  spread  itself,  and  come  into  direct  contact  with 
all  its  people.  Each  day  the  power  of  the  school 
must  be  felt  in  some  corner  of  the  school  district.  It 
must  work  so  that  everybody  sees  its  work  and  daily 
appraises  that  work.  It  must  put  the  responsibility 
on  the  parent,  not  so  much  the  individual  parent 
as  groups  of  parents,  so  that  the  individual  acts  or 
refrains  from  acting  because  the  group  conscious- 
ness is  at  his  elbow  and  not  in  a  distant  school,  or  in 
an  unknown  law. 

The  school  must  follow  the  lead  of  the  social 
agencies.  What  have  these  social  agencies  done? 
They  have  gone  out  of  their  buildings,  out  of  their 
offices  and  worked  where  the  work  would  tell. 

What  does  the  domestic  science  teacher  of  a  settle- 
ment house  do?  She  does  not  teach  merely.  She 
goes  out  to  live  with  her  neighbours, —  those  that 
need  her,  helps  rebuild  the  home,  then  goes  on  to  the 
next. 

What  do  the  settlement  nurses  do?  They  go  to 
the  homes  and  help  the  people  take  care  of  their  sick 
ones,  thus  relieving  the  hospitals.  Home  care  under 
wise  guidance  takes  the  place  of  the  institution. 

What  do  parents  do  who  have  come  through  united 
effort  to  appreciate  school  problems?  They  go  back 


214     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

to  the  home  and  compel  the  parent  to  give  the  child  a 
fair  chance,  and  they  compel  by  helping.  The 
neighbourhood  holds  up  the  individual  home. 

See,  too,  how  the  playground  tends  to  shift. 
From  the  park  to  the  back  yards  of  the  tenements. 
The  children  play  and  the  mothers  need  have  no 
worry.  Play,  children's  healthy  play,  not  harmful 
haphazard  experiences,  is  going  back  into  the  home. 

Dr.  Montessori  has  taken  the  kindergarten  school, 
the  nursery  into  the  homes,  directly  in  touch  with  the 
parents.  The  school  is  going  back  to  the  home. 

In  the  school-yard,  I  saw  an  old  woman,  her  shawl 
about  her  head.  She  was  talking  to  a  group  of  chil- 
dren in  her  own  native  tongue.  She  was  telling  them 
stories,  folk  stories  treasured  for  many  years  out  of 
her  peasant  life  abroad.  Her  voice  was  soft, 
dreamy.  Her  eyes  were  far  off.  The  story-teller 
had  come  to  the  school.  The  home  had  come  to  the 
school. 

One  morning  when  the  school  was  gathered  in  the 
assembly  hall,  a  young  man  seated  himself  at  the 
piano  and  played  out  of  the  fulness  of  his  larger  ex- 
periences, played  the  songs  of  the  masters.  Now 
and  then  he  stopped,  he  explained  and  went  on.  The 
artist  parent  was  giving  to  the  children  the  best  that 
he  had.  The  home  had  come  into  the  school. 

The  school  has  already  done  many  of  these  things 
in  a  blind  unconscious  way.  The  school  must  now 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       215 

directly  and  consciously  organise  its  larger  social  life. 
It  must  go  out  of  its  doors  as  it  were.  It  must  use 
the  factory,  the  stores,  the  neighbouring  parks,  the 
museums,  not  incidentally  but  fully  and  with  deliber- 
ation. 

The  teacher  must  go  to  market  with  her  children. 
She  must  take  the  drawing  class  to  the  woods,  the 
lakes,  the  streets,  the  open  yards.  She  must  bring 
into  the  building  the  artist,  the  musician,  the  singer, 
the  advertiser,  the  picture  man,  the  story  teller. 

What  the  schools  need  is  the  push  of  the  crowd. 
What  the  crowd  needs  is  the  pull  of  the  child  life. 
The  school  must  become  the  people. 

As  yet,  the  school  has  not  been  taken  over  by 
humanity.  When  the  people  recognise  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  school  as  they  did  those  of  the  print- 
ing press,  the  school  will  become  a  thousand  times 
more  powerful  in  fostering  race  growth. 


First  we  must  change  the  kind  of  experiences  that 
are  given  in  the  school;  second,  we  must  change  the 
teacher's  training;  third,  we  must  individualise  the 
school;  fourth,  we  must  give  the  school  over  to  the 
people;  fifth,  we  must  change  our  attitude  towards 
the  child. 

Do  we  really  believe  in  children?     Can  we  say 


216     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

with  the  Roman  mother,  '*  These  arc  my  jewels." 
How  long  ago  is  it  that  the  state  legislature  passed 
a  bill  enabling  the  canneries  to  employ  children  and 
women  twelve  hours  a  day?  Fifty  children  to  a 
teacher,  adulterated  foods,  military  discipline,  are  not 
beliefs  in  children.  Enslaving  mothers  is  not  a  be- 
lief in  children. 

Our  belief  in  children  like  our  belief  in  many  other 
good  things  is  mainly  a  word  belief.  What  we  need 
is  a  practical  belief.  We  are  still  at  the  stage  where 
we  separate  work  and  thought,  action  and  theory, 
practice  and  ethics.  If  we  would  be  saved  we  must 
follow  the  child's  way  of  life.  His  way  is  the  direct 
way.  He  learns  from  contact  with  the  forces  about 
him.  He  feels  them,  he  sees  them,  he  knows  what 
they  do  to  him.  He  thinks  and  docs  and  discovers 
all  in  one  continuous  flow  of  energy. 

The  child  says,  "  I  am  of  things  as  they  are.  I 
am  the  fighter  for  the  things  that  ought  to  be.  I  was 
the  beginning  of  human  progress  and  I  am  the  prog- 
ress of  the  world.  I  drive  the  world  on.  I  invent, 
I  achieve,  I  reform.  About  me  is  always  the  glory 
of  mounting.  I  have  no  fear  of  falling,  of  slipping 
down,  down.  I  have  no  fear  of  being  lost.  I  am 
truth.  I  am  reality  and  always  I  question  chaos." 

When  the  child  begins  to  question  the  wisdom  of 
the  group,  its  religion,  its  literature,  its  dress,  its 
tastes,  its  method  of  government,  its  standard  of 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       217 

judgment,  that  moment  the  group  should  begin  to 
take  heed.  It  should  take  the  child's  questioning 
seriously.  When  the  group  fails  to  do  this,  it  gives 
up  its  existence,  it  ceases  to  grow  because  it  looks 
back,  it  worships  tradition,  it  makes  history  in  terms 
of  the  past  rather  than  in  terms  of  the  future. 

Belief  in  evolution  is  a  belief  in  the  child. 

What  the  race  needs  is  a  principle  of  growth, 
spiritual  growth  that  can  never  be  denied.  Such  a 
principle  it  will  find  in  the  child,  because  the  spirit  of 
the  child  is  the  one  factor  of  the  group  existence  that 
in  itself  keeps  changing,  growing.  The  child  is 
nature's  newest  experiment  in  her  search  for  a  better 
type  and  the  race  will  be  strong  as  it  determines  that 
the  experiment  shall  be  successful. 

We  develop  national  characteristics  in  accord  with 
our  adherence  to  a  common  ideal.  We  must  there- 
fore surrender  ourselves  for  the  common  good  and 
the  common  good  to  which  we  should  surrender  is 
epitomised  in  the  child  idea. 

I  feel  that  the  attitude  towards  the  school  and  the 
child  is  the  ultimate  attitude  by  which  America  is 
to  be  judged.  Indeed  the  distinctive  contribution 
America  is  to  make  to  the  world's  progress  is  not 
political,  economical,  religious,  but  educational,  the 
child  our  national  strength,  the  school  as  the  medium 
through  which  the  adult  is  to  be  remade. 

What  an  ideal  for  the  American  people  I 


2i8     A  Schoolmaster  of  the  Great  City 

When  my  father  came  to  America  he  thought  of 
America  only  as  a  temporary  home.  He  learned 
little  or  no  English.  As  the  years  went  by  he  would 
say,  "It  is  enough;  my  children  know  English." 
Then  more  years  rolled  by.  One  day  he  came  to  me 
and  asked  me  to  help  him  get  his  citizenship  papers. 
He  and  I  began  reading  history  together.  Month 
after  month  we  worked,  labouring,  translating,  ques- 
tioning until  the  very  day  of  his  examination. 

That  day  I  hurried  home  from  college  to  find  a 
smiling,  happy  father.  "Did  you  get  them?"  I 
asked. 

'  Yes,  and  the  judge  wanted  to  know  how  I  knew 
the  answers  so  well  and  I  told  him  my  son  who  goes 
to  college  taught  me  and  the  judge  complimented 


me." 


I  have  been  a  part  of  many  movements  to  Ameri- 
canise the  foreigner,  but  I  see  that  the  child  is  the 
only  one  who  can  carry  the  message  of  democracy 
if  the  message  is  to  be  carried  at  all.  If  the  child 
fails  to  make  the  connection  between  the  ideals  of 
the  school  and  the  fundamental  beliefs  of  the  peo- 
ple, there  is  none  other  to  do  it.  The  children  are 
the  chain  that  must  bind  people  together. 

I  have  told  about  parents  growing  because  they 
sought  growth  for  their  children.  I  saw  them  grow 
through  the  initiative  of  the  school.  These  were 
tenement  dwellers.  Would  this  thing  hold  where 


The  Direction  of  the  New  Start       219 

the  parents  are  well  to  do,  and  the  streets  are  clean 
and  music  is  of  the  best,  and  home  ideals  are  of  the 
highest  and  the  social  life  of  the  neighbourhood  is 
intimate?  Is  it  still  necessary  for  the  school  to 
gather  the  parents  about  itself?  Is  it  still  necessary 
for  the  school  to  go  out  into  the  community  and  get 
the  parents  to  consciously  work  as  a  group  for  the 
children's  interest,  to  consciously  shape  their  phi- 
losophy of  life  in  conformity  with  the  dynamic  phi- 
losophy that  childhood  represents  ? 

More  necessary!  If  not  to  save  the  children,  it 
should  be  done  to  save  the  parents. 

No  matter  who  the  people  are,  they  need  the 
school  as  a  humanising  force,  so  that  they  may  feel 
the  common  interest,  revive  their  visions,  see  the 
fulfilment  of  their  dreams  in  terms  of  their  children, 
so  that  they  may  be  made  young  once  more.  Ameri- 
canise the  foreigner,  nay,  through  the  child  let  us 
fulfil  our  destiny  and  Americanise  America. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   CHILDREN 

YESTERDAY  the  rain  fell  and  the  snow.  I  bent 
my  head  to  the  wind  and  went  on.  Then  I  met  a 
boy:  a  very  small  boy  he  was,  not  big  enough  to 
be  at  school.  He  ran  to  me  and  took  my  hand  and 
smiled,  and  I  laughed  and  raised  my  head  and  walked 
on  stepping  lightly  to  the  music  of  the  rain  and  the 
snow. 

Each  day  and  every  day,  to  school  and  from 
school,  I  meet  you,  hundreds  of  you.  You  smile 
and  the  welcome  in  your  eyes  is  wonderful  to  see. 
You  meet  me  and  as  you  go  you  take  me  with  you, 
free  and  joyous  as  yourself.  Surely  my  life  is 
blessed,  blessed  with  the  smiles  of  countless  lips, 
blessed  with  the  caress  of  countless  greetings. 

Do  you  feel  that  you  have  need  of  me?  Know 
then,  oh,  my  children,  that  I  have  far  more  need  of 
you.  The  burdens  of  men  are  heavy  and  you  make 
them  light.  The  feet  of  men  know  not  where  to 
go  and  you  show  them  the  way.  The  souls  of  men 
are  bound  and  you  make  them  free.  You,  my  beauti- 
ful people,  are  the  dreams,  the  hopes,  the  meaning 

220 


The  Children  in 

of  the  world.     It  is  because  of  you  that  the  world 
grows  and  grows  in  brotherly  love. 

I  look  a  thousand  years  ahead  and  I  see  not  men, 
ships,  inventions,  buildings,  poems,  but  children, 
shouting  happy  children,  and  I  keep  my  hand  in 
yours  and  smiling  dream  of  endless  days. 


THE    END 


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